Feeling Filthy: Showtime Virgin
by morbid333
Summary: The club's lights were on her. The music pounded in her chest. One hundred lust-filled stares tore through her tiny costume. Lacus had never wanted to give a performance like this, but she had no choice. Besides, it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done.
1. Chapter 1

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One – Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes**: I finally received my copy of Rengou vs Zaft Portable. All in all, it's a good game. I'd recommend it to any gundam seed fan. If you've played any of the Gundam Battle series, it's similar to that, except set in the Cosmic Era. Also, it is faster-paced, has better controls, and has a more enjoyable, balanced VS mode. The downsides in comparison to Battle Royale: VS mode has no free-for-all option, and machine-gun spray seems to be faster than on royale, hampering my gameplay style of swooping, flyby shootings, which isn't really a big deal, since in Rengou I mainly tend to almost exclusively use the Calamity and Gaia anyway. I've only just recently started playing, so I'm not too good at it yet, but the psp exclusive campaign mode seems fun, even if it does lack narrative. For example, I find myself recognising which battle a given mission is from by the background dialogue – such as the announcement that Lacus has been taken hostage – but someone who isn't familiar with the Japanese dub of the anime might be completely lost. Unfortunately, the sequel, which features all pilots and mobile suits from CE, excluding Astray, was never ported to PSP, meaning it requires a modded or imported PS2 to play – which I don't currently own. I've played through the Earth Forces campaign, but I can't seem to finish it. Even with a long-range type mobile suit like the calamity, the Providence has thus far proved more than a match. Anyway, I may write a more in-depth review for live journal or something later on. For now, let's move on.

To celebrate, I will offer to you my newest Gundam Seed story. I am collaborating with the 666th Nerrophiliac on his new story 'Every Thousand Litres.' It is a unique take on a high school fic, featuring Orga, Clotho, and Shani as the main characters. He's in charge of writing it, but I'm helping with the planning, and I'm also beta reading it. So take a look at it, if you will. It is similar in theme to my eventual plan for this story. So if you like this, you'll probably like his, and if you find that you like his, you may like where I intend to go with mine. If I haven't scared you away from the idea, then take a look at it. It is a Shani/Stella pairing, and since there aren't too many of those around, it should be easy to find. Those of you who read my recent chapter of the Unwanted, or happened to look at my forum, (I know you didn't, right?) probably saw this coming, but maybe you didn't expect it to be ready so soon. I didn't expect it to be ready so soon. This is a lot shorter than expected, and it is no-longer to be a one-shot. I've decided to split it up. I know this is a relatively unused pairing, and this isn't a Lacus/Milly romance story, but there are a couple of limes coming up. For those of you who read my FFVIII stories, remember a while back when I mentioned a story entitled Sorry? I haven't started writing that yet, but this is similar to that one. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **All characters relating to Gundam Seed belong to Sunrise. The plot and setting belong to me.

**Summary: **

The club's lights were on her. The music pounded in her chest. One hundred lust-filled stares tore through her tiny costume. Lacus had never wanted to give a performance like this, but she had no choice. Besides, it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done. Kira/Lacus, Luna/Rey, Athrun/Meer, Miriallia/Tolle, Shani/Stella/Shinn **Warnings: offensive language, violence, drug use, Drug dealing, prostitution, lemons, limes, teenage motherhood**

* * *

><p>Cold saliva. Thick as concrete, and still, like the permeation of sweat that adorned the length of her back; salty droplets of perspiration, all that decorated the long patch of pale, lily-white skin.<p>

Numb to the feelings of anxiety and deafened to the pulsating music that obnoxiously pounded about her and reverberated within her very chest, she just wanted to disappear.

It was absurd. The girl's outfit was backless. She should have been cold. She should have been freezing her bones off in this room, yet she wasn't. The atmosphere was not particularly warm, and room temperature alone was not enough to cause discomfort, but all the same, the girl had broken out in a sweat. A bitter, cold sweat.

The saliva in her mouth rested upon her tongue. She could taste it. A horrid, coppery taste, as though she had placed a coin in her mouth, or cut her tongue on a piece of sharp aluminium. It was a metallic taste. And she didn't like it.

Almost as though the rancid fluid were representative of her dread at the situation ahead. As though the aftertaste on her tongue were a bad omen.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be here, in a place like this. In a just and perfect world, she wouldn't be. But she was. The fact of the matter was that the girl did not live in a just and perfect world. She was here. And she didn't have a choice.

The stone in her stomach was growing. Becoming heavier all the time. Leaking and infecting the pit of her stomach with its toxic, black, emptiness. She could feel it. And she didn't like it. This was doing the girl no good. The more she thought about it, the more she dreaded it. If she continued like this, she would never be able to go through with it.

It was a dirty deed, a filthy job. She should never have had to go through with it. She shouldn't have been here in the first place.

Why?

Why her?

Of all people, why her?

Why did everything have to happen to her!

"You're on next," a male voice called out to her, bringing her back to reality. "Are you ready?" The girl didn't answer.

Looking ahead, her stomach felt heavier. The dread was filling her veins like venom. Spreading to her heart. Spreading to her brain. She had to calm down. After all, this wasn't the worst thing she'd done over the past few years.

It was almost comical. Of all things, she was suffering from stage fright. After the many school talent shows she'd won. Back then, she'd loved the stage. She'd loved to sing, and to dance. It hadn't been a problem.

But this was completely different.

Just thinking of the minimalist outfit she wore was enough to make the girl feel sick. She didn't want to look at herself. How was supposed to let anyone else see her this way?

At the very least, she didn't know anyone here. That was a plus, or so she supposed.

Finally, she turned to face the owner of the voice. Her eyes took in the young man's appearance. He wore dark coloured clothing, with a lighter coloured shirt beneath his black jacket.

Trailing her eyes upward, the girl turned her attention to the young man's face. Framed by dark blue hair, his eyes were obscured by a pair of tinted sunglasses. Why he wore those in here, the girl didn't know. Were they prescription? Tinted lensed glasses? Perhaps he needed them to see. Perhaps not.

Although she couldn't see his eyes, the girl knew that he was awaiting her answer. He'd asked a question. It was only fair he receive an answer, but…

"I… I don't know."

"Well, you've got five minutes." The girl swallowed the lump in her throat like a raw egg. She _really _didn't want to do this. "I hope you can get yourself ready in time," the young man said. He almost sounded sympathetic, and the girl detected something in his tone. What he'd said, the way he'd said it. As though he could read her like a promotional poster on the wall. He could see the inner turmoil her mind was currently sifting through. The girl didn't know how, but somehow, he knew. "I'm serious," he added, bringing the girl back down to earth with a start, "this isn't the kind of crowd you want to disappoint."

The girl absentmindedly nodded. She felt as though she were in a dream, as though her mind were a million miles away and her body had continued living without her. This situation, it was so hazy. The air was thick, like smoke, and for reasons other than the fog emanating from the stage.

From her position behind the main stage's back wall, the girl could see the current on-going show. The cause of the crowd's lustful entertainment. The upper fix to stimulate their eyes. She was able to watch the young entertainer as she moved her body to the music, pivoting and twirling her frame suggestively around and between the many poles sticking out of the stage's elevated floor.

A girl. Dressed in what appeared to be a school uniform. An unbuttoned white blouse, showing the pale, tight skin of her chest, displaying her lack of a bra, revealing to the crowd the soft, teen flesh of her unrestrained breasts, a green tie hanging free around her neck; green, plaid skirt, cut above the knee; white, knee-high socks and black, formal, leather shoes. A mane of long, red hair flowed down around her shoulders, framing her head, illustrious scarlet bangs likewise framing her blue eyes.

Open shirt showing off her immaculate, teenage skin. Every time her legs kicked upward, her lusting audience was treated to a glimpse of the white panties beneath her short school skirt.

Looking past the performer, the girl backstage turned her attention instead to the crowd who cheered the dancer on. The audience was full of men. Some of them young. Most of them old. All lusting for the schoolgirl on the stage before them. They were so easy to read. Their desires were obviously less than appropriate, considering the age of the one on the stage.

The age difference some of them had with her consisted of enough to craft an adult several years senior to the very girl in question. It was despicable. They were despicable. This place was despicable. She… even as she processed these thoughts, these judgements came back to her. The backstage girl herself was no better than any of the others here. She was, after all, here. She was, after all, backstage, and that was the proof.

Trying to ignore the insufferable truth that punched her in the face, the girl turned her attention back to the dancer. The red haired schoolgirl.

This girl was a local favourite. So charismatic and confident. Behaving so sultry and seductively in her movements. She was playful, a tease. It was no wonder she was so popular with the regulars. She hadn't even been here very long, or so people had said.

She'd arrived several months ago with her school uniform, hand in hand with her boyfriend.

How many times had she been given the stage in that period? The backstage girl had to wonder. She seemed so content with her performance, bending down low, swaying her hips to the music, flashing her body to the drooling masses like some kind of sexual diva.

The girl backstage doubted she could ever be comfortable enough with herself to move the way the redhead did.

Just how experienced in this kind of exhibitionism was the schoolgirl?

"Hey," a voice called out, speaking over the loud cacophony of the electronic music to which the schoolgirl danced. It distracted the waiting girl from watching the show, leaving her to wonder whether she'd be able to emulate the movements of the schoolgirl as she turned to the source of that feminine voice.

"Um, hi…" the girl replied, taking in the sight of she who had disrupted her concentration.

"You waiting for your turn?"

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

"Ex… excuse me?" the other girl smiled.

"I suppose that's a yes. Are you nervous?"

"Uh, yeah. I've never done anything like this before," the girl explained.

"Me either. Why don't we go on together?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you said you were nervous. If we both go on together, it won't be so hard, right? We'll have each other."

"Maybe, but… I don't know you. I don't even know your name." The other girl laughed.

"I'm Miriallia."

"Lacus," the girl replied.

"So what do you say?" That was a good question.

The girl standing before Lacus appeared to be of a similar age. Another so young, yet in the same place. They even wore identical garments, almost. They were backless and sleeveless. Made of a cool, smooth material that shimmered, like silk. Small string-like ribbon tied at the neck trailed past the shoulders. The material then came to meet at the front, barely covering the girl's chests, before the ribbon-like side straps plunged downward, exposing the mid-rift, but covering that which lay below, yet showing off the entirety of the girl's legs, all the way down from the top of the thigh.

In all honesty, the girls may as well have been wearing bikinis. The skimpy outfits certainly showed more skin than some of the swimsuits Lacus had laid eyes on in the past.

The outfits were almost identical, differing only in colouring. Whilst Miriallia's costume was of an amber hue, the one worn by Lacus happened to be completely white.

"Well?" Miriallia asked. Her offer seemed genuine. What reason did she have to lie? And what reason did Lacus have to refuse? After all, this might just have been the only way to get herself out there in front of all those older men, dressed the way she was.

"Okay, we can go out together. But, what do you have planned?" Miriallia's aqua eyes glistened.

"Just follow my lead," she said, somewhat secretively. "Oh, and… try to loosen up."

"What do you mean?" By way of response, Miriallia gestured toward the red haired schoolgirl on the stage. "Just look at Fllay. She doesn't let anything embarrass her or hold her back, and over the past month, she's become the most popular girl ever to grace the main stage. Whatever happens out there, just go with it, okay?"

Lacus didn't answer. She was staring with awe at the freedom with which the red haired girl was able to move and parade about.

"The outfit is revealing, but that's not going to do the job for us. Okay? We have to put on a show for those guys down there."

"So we have to… do what she's doing?" Lacus asked. Fllay was using every asset she possessed to please the crowd. The exposed flesh, as well as that which was concealed. She used the skirt to tease her audience. She was playing with them. She utilized everything she had. Strength, endurance, flexibility. Her arms, her legs, even her neck, head and hair.

Lacus' hair was much longer than the other girls around here, and much rarer a colour, the pink hair making her seem more exotic. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage, but how?

"Just follow my lead. We're a team out there. Mimic me and do what I do. What I do, you do. Where I touch you, you touch me. Do you think you can do that?" Suddenly, Lacus felt more nervous than she had a moment ago. But she nodded her head.

"Are you prepared?" a male voice asked, catching Lacus' attention once more. It was the bluenet from before.

"We're going on together," Miriallia explained.

"Milly? When did you get here?" the blue haired young man asked.

"Does it matter? I want to go up with Lacus. Is there a problem?"

"No… in fact, that's probably for the best," the bluenet agreed. Are the two of you ready?"

"Lacus?" Miriallia asked. The pinkette sent her a worried glance, before swallowing and finally nodding her head. "Okay Athrun, we're ready anytime you are," Miriallia told the bluenet.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Athrun asked Lacus in a sympathetic tone. He could tell how nervous the pink haired girl was.

"Uh… yeah," Lacus replied with newfound resolve. She was determined to see this through. She had no choice. This was something that had to be done. It was like Miriallia had said. All she had to do was loosen up and follow the other girl's lead.

"Okay then. You're up next. Wait for the DJ to announce you, and then get out there. Remember, you've only been scheduled with a ten minute set, but you can't leave the stage until the music ends. The DJ controls everything."

"Ten minutes?" Miriallia asked, "That shouldn't be too hard."

"It's a short timeslot, but it can drag out if you're not prepared. You'll be called out in any minute. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Thanks, Athrun," Miriallia replied.

"Don't worry about it. The first time is always hard. So, you two just take care out there." The girls nodded and the bluenette turned to leave. Soon, he was out of their sight, off to perform whatever duties he had been assigned.

The girls turned their attention back toward the stage. By the sound of the music, Fllay's segment was winding down to an end.

The red haired schoolgirl ended her routine down on the ground, lying on her stomach, legs in the air behind her, arms draped over the side of the stage.

As the music ceased, the sound of the crowd grew louder, and the two girls were alerted to just how many people were here.

"Are you ready?" Miriallia asked.

Lacus struggled to gain control over her latest wave of anxiety. It was okay, she could do this. Everything would be fine. It would all be okay. She'd done worse. She'd been through harder experiences than this before. This was nothing in comparison. This was simple. This would be easy. She could do this. She was fine.

"Alright alright!" The DJ exclaimed, preparing the crowd for their next morsel of entertainment. "Can I hear it for Schoolgirl Shelly?" The red haired girl gave the crowd a wave and a wide grin as she leaned forward and accepted large amounts of low denomination cash notes. Tips, incentive for her to walk the club after her stage time and possibly offer the patrons private dances, as well as a few other things, should they come to an understanding.

"Um, her name is Shelly?" Lacus asked.

"That's her dancer name. We never use our real names here."  
>"So who comes up with the stage names?"<p>

"The DJ, usually."

"Oh."

"Beat that," the red haired girl teased as she walked past the two waiting dancers, but they could do nothing to retort while they listened to the DJ's announcement.

"Now," the DJ declared, "next up, We've got a treat we've got. A new girl for you all. Be gentle, it's her first time. She's an innocent virgin here. Giving it all up, just for you lucky fellas, for you." Pausing, the DJ scratched the black moustache on his dark-skinned face. This gave him an idea. His lip pulled upward. That was it! Great! "Give it up for the Showtime Virgin!"

Behind the stage, Lacus remained rooted to the spot, her eyes widened. The Showtime Virgin? Was that to be her stage name? Surely not. It couldn't be. That couldn't be –"

"I think that's you," Miriallia spoke, confirming Lacus' fears.

"What's this, she's not here yet?" the DJ asked. "In'at cute? The girl must be shy. Come on out, Showtime Virgin!"

"We're up," Miriallia spoke. "You ready?" Swallowing hard, Lacus attempted twice to reply, before finally regaining her voice. Nodding, she agreed. Hand in hand, the two girls made their way toward the stage.

* * *

><p><strong>The first chapter's done. I had some difficulty trying to describe Lacus' costume. If anyone has any advice on the matter, feel free to say so in a review. Also, the DJ's mannerisms. Were they annoying? Were they consistent? The Lime between Lacus and Miriallia is coming up next chapter. Also, I think I have found a theme song for this story. The song in question is 'Amphetamine' by Yade. Look up the artist's MySpace page for the music. And don't forget to take a look at that story.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Feeling Filthy  
>Part one: Showtime Virgin<strong>

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the delay. I've had most of this done for a while now, but never got around to proofreading it. I've been doing other stories, stopped writing completely over the Christmas break… The computer got sent away for repairs. The optical and hard drivs had to be replaced, but on the plus side, I have a fresh new hard drive, It's back on Windows Vista, about which I have no complaints, the DVD drive works, and so does the fan. Well, the fan always worked, but it's been cleaned out, so now it works a lot better. Now I can play Dragon Age and get past character creation without overheating, yay!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p>"C'mon out, Showtime Virgin!" the DJ proclaimed, announcing the waiting girl's cue. It was her time to shine. Her first performance. This was a real milestone for the young lady.<p>

"That's us," Miriallia spoke. Her voice was raised enough to be heard over the background noise of the club, but intimate enough that Lacus knew to whom the statement was directed. It was as though they had been called in from the waiting room of a clinic to see the doctor.

Lacus swallowed a mouthful of air that seemed to slip down her throat like thick mucus. The girl felt her earlier nervousness well up inside her. Pre-show jitters, or something similar. Could she really go through with this?

She felt the other girl's hand touch her own, fingers interlaced. Lacus felt her own eyes widen as they turned their attention to the brunette.

"It'll be fine," Miriallia assured her. "It's not so bad, trust me. You can do it… _we_ can do it. It'll be fine."

Once again, Lacus swallowed. Her salivary glands seemed to be working in excess this night.

"It'll be easy." Taking a breath, Lacus finally nodded, a look of determination upon her face. "Just follow my lead, okay?" Releasing her breath, Lacus nodded.

"I'm ready," she spoke. She had to do this. There was no other choice. If there were, she would not even be here, in this seedy nightclub in a rundown corner of the city's entertainment district. She would be far from here, in the safety of her apartment. She would be safe and warm, asleep, in dreams of a much more pleasant nature. Instead, she was here. Dressed in… she couldn't describe it. Her current costume, Lacus wore more than this to bed at night.

The girl shook the objecting thoughts from her head. She couldn't think about this now. She hadn't the time. She couldn't go through all of this in her mind. Not now. Not again. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. When they at last opened, the girl's features were graced with a smile.

A smile. The look of a girl who was about to have the time of her life. A girl about to dance. She enjoyed it, she was good at it. It had always been a natural talent of hers.

It was time to get this sordid ordeal over with. Then she could leave. Only then could she take her much needed money and get as far away from these people and this horrible place as she possibly could. "Let's go," the pinkette said. Her voice appeared soft. Higher in pitch than it had before, and that guiltless grin.

So this was the girl's pseudonym? This was her mask, her costume. It was an excellent choice. The vulnerability and innocence of a young girl. The happy, carefree optimism of a ditzy airhead. The charisma, charm, and attraction of a confident, beautiful young woman. This pink-haired girl appeared to have it all.

Miriallia knew why the pinkette had chosen such a façade. The object of the game was to appear desirable. Lust equated to money, and in this world, money was everything. For this reason, for this purpose, Lacus' mask was perfect.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" the brunette asked.

In return, Lacus' smile widened. Her eyes closed as if in glee. And hand in hand, they stepped onto the stage. To the sheer delight of their waiting audience.

"Watsis?" the DJ asked, his microphone headset causing his voice to boom over all others. "Looks like the timid virgin didn' want to come out by herself. She's brought along a friend she has. And what a cute friend she is." After a slight pause, the DJ began to speak once more. "An' if I'm not mistaken… Little Miss Amber, is that you? Ohhoho… we haven't seen her in years, no we haven't. Not since the club opened, we haven't. And they're both dancing together, for the first time. What a treat this is. What a special treat we'ave."

On the stage, the two girls looked to each other. Despite her external appearance, Lacus couldn't help the apprehension sneaking in, nor could she keep it from spilling out onto her otherwise calm, cheerful visage.

A gentle squeeze of her hand was all it took to prevent a crack appearing in the porcelain of her mask. It was then that Lacus realized that she and the brunette were still in contact. They still happened to be holding hands.

"Well, in'at cute. Innat sweet? And without further adue… let us see what we came here ta see!"

The music started. It was a slow song with a relaxed beat. Lacus was thankful for that, but what should she do? She stood rooted, frozen on the spot. Looking out at the many pairs of eyes looking up at her.

How was she to move? What should she do? Those eyes, what did they want? What did they want to see? What did they want her to do?

Lacus felt her muscles tense. This was not like the singer of years ago, nor of the dancer before that, nor of the young gymnast before that. This was no good. She had to loosen up.

The song had been going for some time. The people were growing impatient. The people.

The People? The audience. Her audience. They were here to see her. Yet she….

Lacus felt the other girl moving behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the proximity of the girl on her skin. "Just relax," the brunette spoke into her ear.

The brunette placed one leg between those of her stricken dance partner, intertwined. Traipsing her hands down the length of Lacus' long, slender body, she smoothly lifted her left leg, holding it out to the side, before slowly wrapping it around the pinkette's form.

With perfect control of her erotic movements, Miriallia slid down the pinkette as though she were a pole in a firehouse.

She moved with such poise, as though experienced.

Hands trailed down Lacus' body; fingers grazing over her smooth, white skin; sharp nails scratching the sensitive flesh of her soft abdomen, causing the organs within to backflip and summersault.

Lacus subconsciously shuddered as the proficient brunette skillfully moved her hands downward, scratching white lines in her skin, and brought her lips to brush against her inexperienced, pink haired partner's lower thigh.

As Miriallia slowly rose from her squatting position, she traced a line on the other girl's inner thigh with the tip of her tongue, leaving the tiny patch of affected skin moist and cold against the misty air of the club.

Rising herself to full height, Miriallia stood eye to eye, flush against her partner, causing the least experienced of the pair to blush. She tried to speak, but her voice was drowned out by the noisy music.

The brunette couldn't help but smile endearingly at the amateurish act.

Making eye contact, Miriallia locked the two of them together, each of them seeing only the other. Each of them focusing on the other's eyes. For lacus, everything else seemed to fade away. The music had diminished, and the countless people watching her had faded away, gone. All that remained was the brunette.

She swayed her body in time to the music, moving her hips, grinding them together with those of Lacus.

Catching on to what her companion wanted, Lacus remembered her earlier instruction – to emulate and mimic, to follow the brunette's lead – and with a sudden surge of clarity and assurance, she finally began to join in. It was like a massive weight had been lifted. The brunette's eyes, her face, her expression said it all. The others were nothing. Miriallia was all that mattered.

Lacus placed her hands softly on the brunette's shoulders. Emulating the other girl's movements. She felt Miriallia's hands moving down the curves of her frame as her own snaked around to the brunette's back. Slowly, she lowered them down to grasp the girl's thighs.

She pulled the other girl closer and their movements slowed. She felt the girl's body pressed flush against her own. She felt the girl's hands caressing her as they moved down her sides. Her own gripped the other girl's legs.

She separated them, divided them.

Smirking, Miriallia wrapped her legs tightly around the pinkette's waist, giving her the lead. She placed her hands on the other's shoulders, allowing Lacus to position and manipulate her body as she liked.

She hadn't expected Lacus to be so bold. Perhaps she was loosening up. This could make things more interesting. Her mischievous grin widened as she lay back, while Lacus supported her weight, joined by the waist, arms fully extended kept her up from their grip at the pinkette's neck. Her head hung limply from her shoulders as she looked to the crowd behind her. A vacant smile upon her face, her brilliantly aqua eyes carried a lustful glaze to their wonderful sheen.

As she took in the shrouded faces of the crowd, her mind was oblivious to Lacus' interaction. The pinkette was in charge of their sensual dance, at least for the moment. Time escaped her. And she let it. She allowed it to slip by.

Before she knew it, and too soon in her eyes, their roles had reversed. But it mattered not. Miriallia was in the lead once more. The song was winding down, so she had one more chance. One more dance. She grinned as she positioned herself behind the pinkette.

_My turn._

Miriallia stood behind the inexperienced pinkette. She wrapped her arms around the girl's body, the same way Lacus had done earlier.

Lacus stared out ahead of her. It seemed Miriallia had once again taken charge. It was true that being in control had made things easier for her. Focusing on the other girl, she was able to forget where she was. Now, facing all these people, she was brought crashing back to reality, crushed by its gravity.

She was caught unprepared when she felt the girl's hands running up and down her front. Fingers again trailing, nails scratching so seductively against her exposed skin. Sending chills running down her spine.

The pinkette looked out at the sea of lustful eyes before her. She couldn't help it. The more she stared, the more apprehensive she became. It had been easier before. When she had been leading, if it could have been called that. When she had been focused. But now, the more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her.

As though sensing her partner's fear, Miriallia turned the pinkette's head to face her, and pressed the uncertain girl's soft, thin, pink lips to her own. As though to remind Lacus that she was still there. As though to distract her. Or as though to regain Lacus' full attention.

Lacus stared at her partner through wide eyes. A feat that was made difficult due to the close proximity instigated by their kiss.

Wide periwinkle orbs studied the closed eyes of Miriallia and Lacus once again felt the probing tip of the brunette's tongue. This time, at the gate of her mouth. It was obvious what the girl wanted, and Lacus was too stunned to put up any form of resistance, which Miriallia took as an equivalent of consent, entering her partner's mouth.

As for Lacus, the pinkette couldn't believe what was happening. She couldn't believe what she was doing. She could only feel the other girl's tongue against her own. She could hear the crowd cheering above the deafening noise of the percussive, electronic music. For one reason or another, they seemed to like this. They seemed to enjoy it. Lacus Knew the other girl was only giving them what they wanted to see. She obviously knew their tastes well.

Miriallia's eyes slowly flickered open. They seemed to sparkle and glint, as though smiling at her. Lacus could picture it in her head. She knew that Miriallia would be grinning at her right now, were she not otherwise engaged.

Standing behind the pinkette, Miriallia trailed her hands along the front of Lacus' body. Her face pulled away. Her hands drifted up to cup the pink haired girl's breasts, hidden from sight, protected only by the thin, white fabric of the skimpy dancer's outfit she wore.

The contact made Lacus blush uncomfortably. She wasn't quite accustomed to this kind of touch, but she did know one thing. She knew that she didn't like it.

She tried to shrug the other girl off. Somehow, this was worse than the kiss. She tried to push her away, tried to step forward, tried to create some kind of distance between the two of them, hoping that Miriallia would take the hint, hoping that she would understand.

She didn't. Grinning, the brunette began running her fingers down her partner's bare back. Sharp nails dug and scraped across the unprotected skin. The feeling was mesmerizing. Lacus shuddered. The audience, the outsiders were once more beginning to fade out. It was just the two of them again.

Despite herself, for the umpteenth time, Lacus allowed herself to shudder. Her body seemed to purr, like a cat stroked in its favorite spot. She enjoyed the feeling. She writhed in it. She liked it, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise. Nomatter how many times she told herself that she didn't. No matter how many times the deafening alarm bells in her head told her that something was wrong. That this was wrong.

And then it happened.

Whether or not it was the intent of the brunette's movements was unimportant. The fact was that it had happened, and couldn't ever be undone. The straps began to move of their own accord. Slipping. Falling. Unraveling.

Soon, the pink haired girl's entire chest was laid bare, exposed to the lewd clubgoers who looked on, their licentious stares and cacophonous catcalls overwhelming her.

Lacus froze. The colour seemed to drain completely from her sight, and the sound faded around her to nonexistence. As though someone had turned down the volume on the television set of her senses, or more realistically as if she had suddenly become deafened.

Time seemed to distort and slow. The people continued to stare, grins plastered on their inebriated faces. Pleasure and lust shining in their eyes.

The girl remained frozen, rooted to the spot, Her chest now covered by a set of hands not her own.

This was too much. What could she do? Lacus couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. She was helpless. Defensless. Vulnerable.

Slowly, the girl's porcelain mask began to crack. She couldn't do this. It was bad enough before, but now these classless people were gaping at her entirely nude form. This was madness. This was insane. Her eyes began to water.

Miriallia leaned in to whisper sharply in the girl's ear. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Lacus' eyes closed. Her head shook eratically. "I… I can't do this!" she cried, breaking free of the other girl's censoring embrace and desperately fleeing the stage, arms wrapped around her torso in a fruitless attempt to cover herself.

"Hey!" an angry voice called out after her. "You can't leave in the middle of a show!"

"I'm on it!" another answered as a young woman pushed past Lacus, rushing to take her place on the stage, to the roaring sound of astounded applause from the crowd. Lacus knew that she wouldn't be missed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **I apologise for the wait. I've had this drafted for almost a month, but I never got around to proofreading it. Sorry about that. The next chapter should be up soon too.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p>Footsteps seemed to echo against the walls as a white pair of high-heeled shoes clacked against the polished marble floor, the overhead lights laminating the reflection in its lime green surface.<p>

Rounding another corner in this labyrinth like corridor, the girl pressed forward, unsure of where she was going. Making her way through the hall, she shuddered. Partly from the cold air on her scantily clad skin, but also from the memory of what had just transpired: The total humiliation of those eyes upon her, so full of lust and licentious intent.

Arms were still wrapped tightly around her chest, simultaneously holding and concealing her otherwise unsupported, milk-white bust.

How could Miriallia have done that to her? Was it on purpose, or just an unfortunate accident? Their dancing couldn't be described as anything less than bold. Perhaps that was how the brunette did everything. Maybe to her, exposing her partner like that was just a way to liven up the routine.

Lacus sighed, her aimless trek coming to a halt. What was she even doing here? The pinkette had no business being in a place like this, in this horrible club with those people, and that terrible DJ.

Working in a place like this was so unlike her, so unlike anything she'd ever done in her life. If anyone saw her here, what would they think? What would they think of her? And what of the people in her past, her friends from school. What had happened to them?

Had the past two years been any kinder to them than it had to Lacus? That was the resounding truth in everything. That was the reason she was here. Not because she wanted to be, certainly not. Had she a choice, this abominable club would be the last place she'd ever be found. The horrible, honest truth was: She hadn't a choice in the matter. This was her last resort.

Lacus was fast approaching the end of her line. She wouldn't be able to continue living without money, and right now, this was the only way she could get it.

Looking about her, Lacus was about to Continue on her way when she suddenly felt a hand grab her tightly by the shoulder and force her roughly against the wall, causing her to yelp loudly from surprise and from the pain of the assault.

Slowly tilting her head upward, the cornered girl managed a glimpse of her attacker. His eyes were like all the others. Glazed and full of lust, as though he were dreaming, fantasising, or picturing her naked, not that he had to try very hard, given her current attire.

Her shy, supple breasts were barely hidden, tucked away under the arms Lacus held crossed over her chest. Arms that the man held tightly in his fists, the unexpectedly soft skin of his hands causing her pain.

He roughly forced her arms up above her head, freeing the voluptuous mounds on her chest while simultaneously pinning her to the wall. The models featured in pornographic magazines had more modesty.

The man's proximity, he was so close. They were almost touching… they were touching. Lacus could smell the extravagant cologne he wore. It wafted up her nostrils, starving her and depriving her of the precious oxygen her quickened, wild breathing now required.

The smell overwhelmed her. It asphyxiated and nauseated her. It made her feel sick.

The man's lip curled upward into a sneer, revealing pearl white teeth on the left side of his jaw. Tight olive skin shone exuberantly from the overhead lighting, and his purple, wavy hair was pulled back into a short, loose ponytail.

Lacus was completely helpless before this man, and could do no more than whimper as his lustful gaze penetrated her and roamed hungrily over her uncovered, young body.

"So, thinking of leaving?" he finally asked, his voice surprisingly high in pitch.

"Let me go," the girl squeaked.

"You're a little premature, don't you think? You should be on stage, not out here. You still have five minutes. Time is money, and you're stealing it from this club. Do you really think you're going to get away with it? Banks don't just let robbers walk out with their money now, do they? If you borrow something, you pay it back, with interest."

For the umpteenth time that evening, Lacus shuddered, and this time, it wasn't due to adrenaline or anticipation.

"I think I know how you can repay your debt," the man uttered. "You're an entertainer, right? You should be on stage, but maybe you can entertain me, instead." Lacus had been dreading that. "You know, you're pretty cute." That line didn't make the pink haired girl feel better in the least.

"Let me go," she said again, stronger this time. The man simply laughed.

"You know I can't do that, but how about we go to one of the private rooms?"

Lacus' eyes widened, breath catching. No, this wasn't happening. He had her alone, bound. She was helpless. His lust-filled stare revealed his malicious purpose, and in her current position, considering her present attire, she didn't stand a chance of resisting him. Not physically, anyway.

The girl's eyes clenched shut, shielding the miraculous, blue orbs. Eyelids shut excruciatingly tight, moist, streaked with fresh tears. Her breathing became chaotic.

She knew what this man wanted, it was painfully obvious. But she couldn't let him have it. She couldn't let him do it.

She had no choice in the matter. He would go ahead. He would take her and use her body. By force, if he had to.

"No…"

She didn't want this.

"No…"

She couldn't. Not this. Anything… anything but this!

"No!" the girl cried out, her head shaking erratically.

"Hey, calm down," the purple haired man stated, that lustful smirk never once leaving his face. "You can scream all you want when we get to one of the soundproofed bedrooms, but not out here."

"No! Please, you can't do this!" Lacus begged, looking at the man's cool visage through passionate, fear filled eyes, tears flowing freely down her otherwise immaculate pale, white cheeks.

"Keep it down. Someone might hear you. There's no need to cry. Not yet anyway. I can be quite gentle when I need to."

"Somebody… Someone, help!" the girl cried, causing the main to tighten his grip, painfully so.

"Come on now, don't do that. You'll spoil it."

"Mister Seiran?" enquired a voice. Lacus looked past her attacker and stared with pleading eyes to that same person from before: The young man with the clipboard who had sent her on stage.

"What is it?" the purple haired man snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Whatever the case, you two shouldn't be here in the hallways. We have private rooms specifically for these kinds of exploits."

"Don't worry. We're on our way over there right now." Lacus stared at the second man in disbelief. He wasn't going to put a stop to this? He wasn't even going to help her?

"I'm afraid not," the second man replied. Lacus sighed in relief, but the reprieve was to be short lived. "This lady here is with me for the evening." The girl's eyes widened. He couldn't be serious, could he? This place was unbelievable. It was like all the most lecherous, perverted men in the world had gathered in one place at one time, perhaps for the sole purpose of taking advantage of her. Though in hindsight, Lacus supposed that she would prefer to trust this down to earth young man, rather than the purple haired person holding her propped up against the wall.

"With you? You're kidding right?" the purple haired man retorted.

"I'm afraid not," the bluenet answered "She goes with me. Boss' orders."

"Screw that!" the man emotionally protested. "I saw her first. I'll tell you what: Go down to the bar, have a drink or two. If you really want her so much, you can have her when I'm done."

"While I'm certain you would have finished by the time it took me to have a single drink," the purple haired man's eyes narrowed at the insinuation, "I'd rather this girl not be subjected to one as crude as you. How about you go to the bar? They need another person to serve drinks."

"No they don't."

"Maybe you should go check."

"Trust me, they've got all the men they need down there."

"Then find someone else who needs your services. I don't care where you go, so long as you're not bothering the dancers."

"God dammit Zala, can't you tell when you're not wanted?" the aggravated man bellowed, turning his head, releasing his grip on Lacus' left arm so he could get a shot at Zala, catching him painfully in the abdomen with his elbow.

He'd released her. Only partially, but she had one arm free. This was her chance to get away, her only chance. She took it.

The man wailed, hand rising to the painful scratch marks the girl's long fingernails had managed to inflict upon his face. He glared at her, eyes narrow, teeth bared, his entire face contorted in malice.

"You bitch!" he cried, uncontained emotion seething in his high-pitched voice. His watering eyes held for the girl a passionate hatred. Lifting his hand from his injured cheek, the pinkette he still had bound with a single arm was able to see the superficial damage she'd inflicted.

Lacus' long, sharp nails had broken his skin. There were three parallel scrape-like cuts running horizontally along the side of his face. Dead skin was compiled like the disturbed earth on either side of a ditch or trench from which blood seeped in thin, scarlet trails down the right side of the man's face.

Seiran's hand dangled uselessly in the air. Slowly, the fingers began curling inward, enclosing. The hand clenched into a fist and the man's entire body visibly tensed.

"Touch my face?" he asked, "damage my perfect face?" The anger within him boiled over and he thrust his fist forward in a powerful jab directed at the pinkette's face.

Lacus flinched, waiting for the inevitable pain to strike her, but it never came. Slowly, nervously, she opened her eyes and saw the fist hovering barely an inch away from her face, firmly grasped in the blue haired man's palm.

"That's enough," Zala said, the seething anger present in his voice almost breaking through his calm facade. "Why don't you calm down? Have a drink on my tab."

"Calm down?" the other man asked incredulously, breaking free of Zala's hold. "You saw what she did to my beautiful face. You saw what this bitch did!"

"I said that's enough!" Zala cried, lunging forward to stop yet another of the purple haired man's physical attacks on the young dancer. He managed to twist the attacker's arm around behind his back. The purple haired man emitted a pained, whimpering sound until the bluenet released him, using his own body as a pivot to swing the sapless man in an arc around him and away from Lacus, standing firmly between the purple haired attacker and his helpless, terrified victim.

In one fluid motion, Zala had succeeded in forcing Seiran away from Lacus, and with a single, powerful punch, knocked him back.

The left hook to his face had shocked Seiran as much as the scratches inflicted by the frightened girl. Clutching his damaged cheek, he glared daggers at the pair of them.

"You'll pay for this," he threatened. His voice sounded hollow. His words were white hot with fury. "Both of you. You dare to touch my face? You're dead. Both of you!"

"Seiran!" Zala exclaimed, raising his voice impatiently. He spoke so quickly in his anger that the words practically merged together. "I swear, if you don't get the fuck out of here in the next minute, the rest of your life isn't going to be worth living!"

"I'm not going to forget this," Seiran retorted. "You'd better just hope that this scarring isn't permanent," he threatened, indicating his damaged artwork of a face. Glaring at them for a moment longer, he turned and quickly scurried from the room and out of sight.

Lacus was certain she heard the sound of him stumble, and she distinctly heard his agitated voice swearing in the distance before the sound of his footsteps died down.

"I'll bet he intends to make an insurance claim for the damage you did," the bluenet uttered bitterly before turning back to Lacus. As he looked to her, his face took on a concerned light. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Lacus nodded her head.

"Come on," he said, placing an arm around her shoulder, feeling her body tense instantly against his touch. "I'll take you to the dancer's lounge," he offered. "They'll have some spare costumes in there so you can…" the young man trailed off awkwardly, pausing to find the best way to phrase what he had to say, "Cover up," he finally concluded.

Lacus merely nodded, arms tightly hugging her chest, her guard not lowering for an instant, even now that the man known as Seiran was gone.

"What was your name again?" the man asked, his voice standing alone to press back the awkward silence that had enveloped them. "Lacus something, right?"

The girl nodded. "Clyne," she answered softly.

"Athrun," the man replied in exchange. "Athrun Zala." Lacus nodded again. Her periwinkle eyes stared intently at the polished floor and Athrun noticed the glazed appearance they bore. Wherever her mind was, it was miles away from this place. That was understandable, considering what had just happened. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm… sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have run off like that. I mean–"

"Don't worry about it."

"But…"

"I'm sure Miriallia will cover for you," Athrun replied assuringly.

"I blew it," Lacus lamented, shaking her head slowly, her long, smooth tresses brushing against her exposed back.

"What happened back there?"

"I don't know. I just… froze. I couldn't face it. All those people, staring. I couldn't do it. I probably sound pathetic."

"No!" Athrun guaranteed her. "This was your first time doing something like that, right?" Lacus nodded silently. "I'm sure everyone will understand. Anybody can get stage fright. Especially in a costume as tiny as that one," the bluenet added in an undertone.

Lacus nodded without thinking.

The dancer's lounge, as it turned out, served the shared purposes of both dressing room and lounge. Thick, red, shag carpeting covered the floor, the colour matching the walls except for the far end of the room which was an off-white and riddled with vanity cabinets and dressers. That was evidently the changing section of the room.

The red part of the room took up about two thirds and was abundant in comfortable looking sofas and armchairs. Against the wall atop a wooden cabinet sat an old, small television set with a fifteen inch screen.

Small tables were positioned away from the sofas, complete with chairs and playing cards laid out for various games, likely to fill in time between performances.

As they entered the room, Lacus felt an immediate rush of heat. It was such a stark contrast to the cold hallways outside. The pink haired girl felt so warm, even in her current semi-dressed state.

"Over here," Athrun stated, directing Lacus' attention to the changing area where a few other girls were currently getting into costume. One of the girls watched them absently as they approached, but then returned to applying make-up in the mirror as if Athrun and Lacus being here were nothing out of the ordinary. Evidently, the bluenet's presence here was rather common, or at least tolerated, if not completely accepted.

"Here you go," Athrun said, handing a garment to the girl, still rummaging through the nearest dresser. "It's not much," he conceded, "but it's better than those tattered rags," he referred to Lacus' current attire.

Nodding slowly, Lacus accepted the large, white jacket and placed it around her shoulders, fastening the waistcoat buttons to keep it from opening and exposing her chest. As she let Athrun herd her over to a nearby armchair, her eyes never once left the ground.

"You can wait for Miriallia in here," the bluenet instructed. "It's a pretty good lounge. Better than the staff common room, at least. You'll notice that we treat the dancers a lot better than we do the hotshot security personnel, like the one you met earlier." Athrun paused to gauge Lacus reaction, but when she gave none, he continued with his explanation. "You can have a drink while you wait, there's a mini-fridge and everything." As he spoke, the young man moved over to the fridge in question. "What do you want? We've got beer, wine, gin, whisky, rum… there's even flavoured—"

"I don't drink," Lacus interjected."

"I see…" Athrun's voice almost sounded amused as he trailed off.

Lacus heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle opening, and Athrun's footsteps increasing in volume as he approached. After a moment, she turned to face him and saw the bottle in his hand, held outstretched for her.

"I don't-" Lacus began, but was unceremoniously cut off.

"You should take it anyway," Athrun reasoned, "you'll need it after tonight's ordeal."

Wordlessly, begrudgingly, Lacus accepted the bottle. Raising its neck to her face and sniffing once at its transparent liquid. Her face instantly blanched at the foul stench that permeated from the supposed drink contained within.

"Don't be shy," Athrun teased, a playful smirk erupting on his face, "drink up."

Lacus placed the bottle to her lips and took a sip of the ghastly nectar within. The moment the alcohol touched her tongue, Lacus had to fight a serious urge to spit it out, deciding instead to swallow it. This course of action immediately backfired.

The flavour was bad enough, but even as she swallowed, Lacus could feel the pathogenic liquid score and burn her throat all the way down her oesophagus, as though she'd just swallowed a hearty mouthful of harsh chemical cleaner.

Unable to breathe, Lacus soon broke into a harsh coughing fit. How anybody could drink that and call it recreational was beyond her. That can't have been what her father used to drink. That can't have been what so many kids from school had done secretly at parties. Those couldn't possibly be the bottles that kids hid from their parents. What did people see in it? Drinking that had to have been related to some kind of torture.

Lacus looked up as she spluttered and hacked. The pinkette was certain she'd heard a hastily stifled laugh come from the bluenet.

"Well now, you certainly weren't kidding when you said you didn't drink." Lacus looked away, willing herself not to blush. "Trust me, it'll grow on you." His voice suddenly dropped as he leaned close. "Listen, are you going to be alright here by yourself?" Lacus nodded her head wordlessly, not quite ready to test the realms of what damage that small gulp had done to her vocal cords. "Good, because I shouldn't really be here. My shift doesn't end for at least another hour. Rusty will have taken over as stage manager by now, but I should probably be working down at the bar. They're a little understaffed tonight; regardless of what Seiran says. Maybe I'll see you later."

Don't count on it, the pinkette thought, but nodded him out all the same and looked back to the small, glass bottle she held loosely in her right hand.

Had he just said 'shift?'

Yes, Lacus was sure of it. She was sure that's what he'd said. It was strange. Everybody here seemed to speak and act as though this were any ordinary job. Perhaps they considered it to be. Maybe that was the only way they could get through it.

This kind of work was more than just degrading. It was borderline criminal, but some of the people Lacus had seen working here, they downplayed it. They seemed like ordinary people. They could have been working at the local pub, or even a diner. They could have been working at the local theatre and had the pinkette not known better, she'd have believed it. Maybe that was the only way for them to get by. Maybe they had to downplay the nature of their jobs. Maybe that was the only way they could live with themselves.

Not thinking, Lacus took a swig from her bottle… and instantly regretted it. Even after everything that had happened so far, the pinkette could tell. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: IgNighted, you mentioned that Lacus and Miriallia's dance was bold. Maybe that's the only way Miriallia can do it… or maybe that's the only way I can write it. I'm not really sure what to do for future dances. I have a reasonable hold on the plot, but when it comes to the dances, I'm kinda running out of ideas. So, anyone? Any suggestions will be appreciated.<strong>

**AN: On a more general note, what's your take on cliché's? I have a character in mind for a different story. As far as archetypes go, to put it simply; he's a skinhead crack dealer named Jimmy White Smith. Unfortunately, that name is already used for a character in something, although the middle name is different, and my character goes by the nickname Whitey. I googled the name and apparently, it's pretty generic and has many other uses, apparently by real people. It seems to be almost as common as John Smith. In your opinion, would using this name be problematic? I'm curious as to what you might think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Feeling Filthy: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes:**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p>Tiny beads of sweat began to glisten on the girl's bare stomach. The stage lights shone down from above, turning the mundane sweat into a fantastic sheen that captivated her fans' most base desires. The bright halogen lights, combined with her rigorous movements warmed her entire body as well as any sun bed or heat lamp.<p>

Twirling her body around the nearest pole, the corner of her lips pulled upward. Her eyes gleamed, giving her an almost pseudo innocence. Her grin widened, exposing a set of perfect, white teeth. This was amazing. She hadn't felt this good in ages.

The brunette stared out into the seemingly endless ocean of patrons. Her audience. Her fans. She looked out to those watching her, her teal eyes locking onto a particularly delicious looking chocolate set in the crowd. She fed off of their lust, and it fuelled her own. The adrenaline, the rush; this was a sensation no drug could compare with.

So many people. Underage schoolboys, frustrated businessmen, disenchanted husbands, even regular single men. They were all here. They all looked up at the stage. They all saw her, smiling sweetly down at them, drenched in sweat. In their minds, she was theirs. In their minds, there was no skimpy costume to obscure their view. There were no other patrons. There was no stage. What did this young man think? Did he imagine the brunette in his car, or in his bedroom? Perhaps the supply room at his office. It didn't matter. There were so many men. Young and old. Hell, there were even a couple women out there. Too many fantasies. She couldn't fulfil them all. Too many to enact. Too many to contemplate.

Their licentious stares. Their looks of pure desire, of longing. Collectively, they craved her. Collectively, they wanted only one thing, and she knew it.

All eyes were on Miriallia, and she loved it.

Well, to be fair, maybe not all eyes. There was another young woman who'd come to join her onstage, not that she needed any help.

Pushing herself off from the pole, the brunette took a running start at the other woman, dropping onto her back and sliding between the young lady's wide-open legs, catching her eye in the process.

The young woman offered both hands to the one lying between her feet.

Not breaking eye contact for a second, Miriallia took the other girl's hands and pulled herself up, until…

The brunette's rising movement ceased. Their bodies had come into contact at the waist. Hesitating for a moment, Miriallia released her hold of the girl's hands and quickly gripped her arms, holding on for dear life.

As if following Miriallia's cue, the other girl placed her hands firmly in the small of the brunette's back and slowly moved them downward. Slowly, and in perfect rhythm to the music, Miriallia felt the woman above her begin to grind against her hips.

Keeping the other girl's cool, blue gaze, Miriallia responded to the movements in kind.

With their close proximity, evocative body movements, and unwavering eye contact, Miriallia was experiencing the most intense dance she'd had in a long while, and she loved every second of it.

Sure, Miriallia had no problem with taking the lead. To be honest, she generally preferred it that way, but to have someone take charge like this, she couldn't supress the shudder that ran down her body, just like the ones she'd given Lacus earlier.

Miriallia felt helpless in her current position. The other girl was in full control. She hadn't been dominated like this in a long time. She'd almost begun to miss it.

Come to think of it, this girl did actually look a lot like Lacus. If only she'd run off when the lights had gone down. Perhaps nobody would have noticed. The two pink haired girls were even wearing the same costume.

They were the same height, had the same long, luxurious pink hair, and the same blue eyes. They were so similar.

Of course, it wasn't a perfect resemblance. Where Lacus' hair fell down her back in thick waves, this girl's was silky and strait. This girl's eyes were also a slightly deeper, darker, more intense shade of blue, whereas Lacus' were tinged with grey.

This girl also seemed to have a significantly larger bust than Lacus. Miriallia would know, they were pressed close enough together. Their faces were also quite different. Lacus' face appeared as though it were somewhat younger, and she was much, much cuter. Especially when she wore that adorable, irresistible anxious expression of hers.

Miriallia's eyes took on a distant glaze at the thought of the absent pink haired girl and she hastily swallowed a mouthful of saliva that had been accumulating.

Miriallia felt the briefest glint of raw arousal flicker within her.

Her lips pulled themselves into a familiar lustful smirk as she allowed the girl's hands to roam her scantily clad body, wrapping her legs tightly around the girl's waist, as she had done with Lacus.

Their dance now over, the pair had made their way off-stage. Traversing through the sea of patrons and tippers, Miriallia noticed Athrun behind the bar and made her way over to him and sat in the first available barstool. The pink haired girl joined her.

"Hey," the brunette greeted.

"After all that you're saying 'hello' now?" the other girl commented, amused.

"That's nothing. I don't even know your name," Miriallia retorted.

"Princess."

"What?" the brunette choked.

"Princess Pink, or the Pink Princess, whichever you prefer. That's the name I go by here."

"The DJ?" Miriallia assumed. Who else would come up with something so tacky?

"Who else?"

"So, Princess…"

"Actually, call me Meer."

"I like it," the brunette grinned. "I'm Miriallia."

"I've never seen you here before."

"I used to hang around every night. I kinda gave it up for a couple of years. I'm thinking of coming back. I haven't had this much fun in a long time." Meer nodded at her.

"You definitely should."

"So, that other pink haired girl…" Miriallia started.

"The one who ran away?"

"Yeah. Are you related to her at all?"

"No… why?"

"Pink hair, blue eyes… it's quite a resemblance."

"I'll let you in on a secret. This getup, it's fake. My natural hair colour is brown."

"Oh… that's too bad."

"Why? A lot of the girls here adopt a persona by night."

"No, not that, it's just… you look really good this way."

"Thanks," Meer replied.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Why don't we just get drinks from the dancer's lounge?"

"It doesn't really matter. It all works out the same," Miriallia countered. It was true. They had to pay for the drinks they took from that little fridge. Her lips pulled into a smirk. Tolle was such a cheap bastard.

"I guess you're right. I'll have whatever you're having."

"Two regulars," Miriallia ordered."

"Coming up," Athrun replied, bending down below the bar, returning with a clear bottle and two glasses, pouring equal amounts into each. "I'll put it on your tab."

The brunette nodded.

"Oh, and Miriallia," the bluenet spoke.

"Huh?" she asked. She'd raised the glass almost all the way to her lips.

"Have you seen Seiran?"

"I've been on-stage," the brunette reminded him. "Do you need to see him?" She raised the glass to her lips and drained the drink in one go, taking the liberty of pouring herself another one.

"I just… want to know where he got to. He's pretty pissed at me."

"Oh no," the brunette smirked. "What did you do this time?"

"Nothing!" Athrun indignantly replied. "Well," he conceded with a sly air, "I may have punched him in the face."

"You didn't!"

"You hit pretty-boy in the face?" Meer asked, joining the conversation. "Wish I'd been there to see it."

"What the hell, Athrun?"

"That's nothing. You should see what Lacus did to him."

"Lacus?" asked Meer.

"You know; pink hair, blue eyes, ran off the stage after I exposed her to the crowd?"

"Oh, the newbie," the pinkette replied, catching on.

"What did she do?" Miriallia pressed.

"He's got great big scratch marks all the way down his cheek."

Miriallia let loose her laughter at that. It was about time somebody put that pretentious prick down a peg. It was just a shame that the brunette hadn't been the one to do it. Only Meer seemed curious enough to question why.

"What made her do that?"

"He cornered her in one of the hallways."

Miriallia's grin faded.

"What?" she asked humourlessly.

"He got her alone. Had her pressed up against the wall when I found them."

Miriallia's eyes narrowed, her expression pulling into a scowl.

"If he hurt her…" the threatened.

"It's alright. Luckily, I managed to find them in time."

"Is she alright now?"

"Yeah. She was pretty scared, but I don't think he had time to do anything. She was lucky I found them when I did. She'll be fine, but I for one intend to report Seiran to the security manager. I suggest you do the same."

"Yeah, thanks Athrun. I'll do that, though I'd prefer to push the prick out of a fifth story window to be honest. I'll tell Tolle about it too. Maybe I can convince him to fire the bastard. He's been nothing but trouble since he arrived.

"Tolle?" Meer questioned. "You mean Tolle Koenig? Do you know the owner?"

"Well, yeah," Miriallia grinned, embarrassment shining on her features. "I'm kinda dating him."


	5. Chapter 5

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Let me apologise in advance for any errors of this chapter. I needed to get it up quickly, so didn't get to proofread as thoroughly as I usually do. Hopefully it won't detract too much from the quality.

I haven't been able to write daily, and I may be away from home at some point. I have to go Court next Monday, so I'll be staying somewhere closer, for ease of commute. I guess the rumours about me selling drugs and killing people made it outside of my old school.

I'm just joking (though not necessarily about the rumours.) I've just been called up for Jury duty. Seriously, Jury service. Me, of all people! I don't even believe in the so-called justice system, and I normally side against all the usual sociopathogenic, 'out for blood' upstanding citizens. I usually take the side of the apparently indefensible, the allegedly unempathisable. The guy that everybody hates, the one they want to see stoned or mauled. Maybe I can empathise more with them, maybe my mind is more open than most. Maybe I'm just crazy. That's probably the option for which most people would vote. Just think how much my fellow prospective jurors are going to fucking love me, Or maybe I'll be cast out. Maybe they won't like the look of me. After all, I'm the suspicious guy who grows weed in a backpack, shoots people with shotguns and steals sixty cent notebooks from a bookshop.

Oh, and by the way, It was also my birthday yesterday. That's why I'm rushing to get this up. I usually try have something ready to upload on my birthday. My first year on-site, I updated Thy Forsaken Soul. Every year since, I've updated Angel of Decadence. This year, this was the only one I had ready, though I may write a chapter for Angel of Decadence after posting this. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. It came out a little longer than expected.

Yeah, sorry for the long ass author's note. Meh, whatever. Enjoy the chapter. This is the main idea I had for this part of the story. This is going to be mainly a Lacus/Kira pairing, eventually, but let me ask you all something. How many of you are interested in this becoming a Lacus/Miriallia pairing? I'm thinking that I may branch off and have two stories: One for Kira and one for Milly. I may also do the same for Nowhere. Let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p>How long had she been here? She didn't know, but too long, for sure. What time was it? Looking around the room, Lacus couldn't see any kind of clock. That was strange. Isn't this where performers usually came when they were on rotation? How could they know when to go on without a clock? It made no sense.<p>

This club was so disorganised. Lacus wondered who was in charge. Some lecherous old man, most likely: A bald scalp, a grey moustache, and thick rimmed glasses for his failing eyesight.

Making such superficial judgements was beneath the pinkette. She knew this, but all the same, Lacus couldn't help herself. She was in a bad mood. Not the kind that would make her snap at people, that wasn't in her character, but she was feeling rather down.

That dreaded feeling had crept throughout her body again. That unknown, black substance that spread through her veins like a gas, freezing her blood, poisoning her heart, leaving her feeling empty and lethargic.

She didn't want to be here any longer. She just wanted to go home. She missed her friends, her family, her life.

Lacus had been so popular once. Everybody had wanted to know her. Everyone had wanted to be seen with her. She was the princess of the school. What had happened? Where were they now?

Where were her many legions of friends now that she needed them? She'd done so much for them over those golden years of teenhood. She'd given so much, expecting nothing in return.

Nothing. She didn't want anything in return for her kindness. She'd helped them all so much, and been happy to do it, but now, now that Lacus needed help, where were they? Where had they gone? Why would they now have nothing to do with her?

Now that she needed them, her friends had miraculously forgotten her number. Why? Was lacus really that terrible a person? Was she deserving of being shunned like this? What had she done to deserve this?

What she had done, was it truly so bad as to sentence her to this lonely torment? Did this punishment really fit her crime? Lacus' head dropped into her lap. She wanted to cry.

The pinkette felt inexorably lonely. She was thirsty, exhausted, humiliated, lonely… miserable.

A half-empty bottle of alcohol sat upright on the table before her, but Lacus wouldn't touch it. The drink contained within was truly vile.

"Um, Lacus?"

The pinkette's head jerked up at hearing her name called. She looked to the source of that familiar voice. She saw Miriallia standing a short way away. She looked almost nervous.

"Are you… alright?" Wordlessly, Lacus nodded her head. "Can I sit down?" Lacus nodded once again, and the brunette found a seat beside her.

"I heard about what happened with Seiran."

Lacus' eyes widened, only for an instant, and she turned her head to face the brunette.

"Athrun told me," Miriallia explained.

"I see," Lacus replied, her tone deadpan, trying her best to sound aloof.

"Are you okay? I mean, Athrun told me that the guy didn't have time to—He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No. Not physically at least."

"Huh?"

"I mean—" The way Miriallia was staring at the pinkette caught Lacus off guard. She turned away from the brunette, looking instead to where somebody had earlier that day been applying make-up, but she wasn't there now. She'd probably be on stage, or among the shameless masses on the club floor below. "I think I did more damage to him, than he did to me."

"Right," Miriallia smirked. "Athrun told me about how you scratched his face off."

"I wouldn't put it as strongly as that."

"Don't be modest. The girls all owe you one. Maybe he'll think twice before he tries it again." Lacus could only nod her agreement.

As the minutes passed, it seemed as though the girls had sat in silence for the longest time, throughout which Miriallia sent countless unnoticed glances at the pinkette.

For the umpteenth time, the brunette opened her mouth to speak, but once again found that she couldn't form the words. She'd never in her life been called meek or timid. Bold and outrageous: That was her. The deviant, the dancer, the lowly schoolboy's fantasy.

Miriallia did not fit into the archaic role of submissive girlfriend. She wasn't one to sit back, look cute, and do as she was told, but for the right type of person, the short haired brunet could be a dream come true. The paragon of a good time.

Once again, her lips pulled into a smirk. She was the schoolboy's wet dream, and his mother's worst nightmare. So why?

"Why was she finding it so difficult to talk about this? Aqua eyes shot once more into the direction of the delectable pinkette. She licked her lips nervously. There was only one way to begin.

"Lacus?" the pinkette turned to her. "Well… I'm sorry." Those pale eyes narrowed, pink brows knit in unvoiced confusion. "You know, for earlier."

She gestured to Lacus' white jacket.

"I… should apologise too," the pinkette meekly confessed.

"Maybe, but not to me."

"I blew it. Whatever happens now… I deserve it!" Lacus drowned her head in her hands.

"Don't say that. It was your first time. You were just nervous. I shouldn't have pushed you so far. It was my fault."

"Still…"

"I don't hear a denial," Miriallia joked, but lacus didn't seem to be in a jovial mood.

"I… I really needed this to work out."

"Why?"

Lacus turned to the brunette, peering into her curious eyes. "I… I need the money." She cut herself off there, refusing to say anymore. She'd revealed too much already, but those eyes remained kind, remained curious, and most importantly, remained on her. There was no snide contempt within them. No judgement. Not even pity. It was as though Miriallia viewed her not as a burden, not as a problem, but as an equal. Had she once been in a similar situation?

"Can I help at all?"

"You don't want to do that," Lacus kindly refused. "Thank you, but just ask anyone. I have a habit of not repaying favours."

"Call it a gift then."

"I don't want anyone's charity. I'll earn my keep," Lacus snapped.

Miriallia raised a concerned eyebrow at the curious reaction. "Don't let pride sink you. I don't know what you're going through, but you may not have a choice. Besides, a gift isn't the same as a donation."

Lacus blanched, her eyes softening. She was doing it again. Pushing people away. All this girl had done was try to help. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, stop apologising, but are you sure there's nothing I can do?" Lacus' eyes lost their focus. "I know the owner. Maybe I can get you a job in the evenings. – Not on the stage," she quickly added at Lacus' continued silence. "I'm sure there're a few positions open in the bar or the games room."

"Thanks," Lacus replied, still not looking directly at the brunette.

"Hey, don't get your hopes up or anything," Miriallia joked, "But I'll see what I can do."

"I'm such an idiot," Lacus exclaimed.

"What?" Miriallia asked her, quite taken aback by the proclamation.

"It took so much for me to come here, to put on this costume, to beg for this job—"

"You had to beg?"

"To go out there in front of those… Those people! And then I go and ruin everything. Why? Because I can't handle a little…"

"Nudity?" Miriallia suggested, "Humiliation?"

"I was practically nude anyway. What was the big deal?" Lacus' head shook, waves of shame rolling like snow from her thick hair. Had she overreacted? The answer was obvious. It seemed so stupid now. "I'm so stupid. I'm an idiot. All for nothing," She repeated, burying her face in her hands once again. "Nothing."

Unsure of what to do, Miriallia placed an arm around the other girl's trembling shoulders.

"Stop blaming yourself. I was the one that exposed your chest to the crowd. I'm the stupid one. I went too far. I don't know why I did it. I don't know what I was thinking. I just… felt an impulse, so I acted on it. It… seemed like a good idea at the time, sorry."

Lacus looked up at Miriallia's apologetic face. "What part of pulling down my top sounded like a good idea?"

The brunette shrugged. "The part where I pulled down your top?" She offered an apologetic grin. "I'm sorry. Look, I'll get you another chance, okay?" she plead, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. "I'll get you another job. A better job. A job with bells. Something you'll feel comfortable doing. Can you forgive me?"

Lacus looked long and hard at the Brunette, and felt the corner of her lips pull themselves upward. She couldn't help it. Even if she did owe her humiliation to this brunette, Lacus just couldn't stay mad at the girl. "Promise?"

Matching the pink haired girl's grin, Miriallia launched herself into close proximity, wrapping both arms around the girl, holding her tightly, keeping her in an embrace, pulling her into an unnecessarily tight hug.

"What are you doing?" Lacus asked. She could feel her cheeks growing hot.

"Don't talk," the brunette unhelpfully replied, and despite herself, despite the uncomfortable closeness, despite the unbearable warmth growing in her cheeks, Lacus' grin stayed, widened. And her arms wrapped themselves around Miriallia's body, holding her with the same tightness. Embarrassment withstanding, face burning, and not quite sure what she was doing or why, she allowed her head to rest upon the other girl's shoulder.

"Come on," Mirialla offered, her voice soft. "I'll take you home."

Lacus nodded and slowly raised to her feet as the other girl backed away, turning her eye to the open bottle on the table.

"Don't forget your drink," the brunette reminded.

Lacus looked to the bottle and blanched. "I don't want it," she replied.

"You sure?"

Lacus nodded.

"Okay," Miriallia shrugged, taking the bottle for herself and downing it in one go. "You ready?"

Slowly, Lacus nodded without a word and quietly stood to her feet. Keeping close at her heel like a loyal dog, she followed the other girl out of the room.

* * *

><p>The walk out was a slow one, and thankfully, quiet. Despite claiming to be new here, Miriallia apparently knew her way around, and was able to lead the pinkette through silent, unused hallways where they ran into no other dancers or patrons: something for which Lacus was entirely grateful.<p>

The girl couldn't tell how long they'd walked in moderate silence. The only sound to break the stillness was the constant clicking of four-inch stiletto against polished floor tile.

The walk seemed long to the pinkette, but before she knew it, Lacus found herself amongst the lush, scarlet carpeting of the front lobby that sat between the bar and the main exit.

"How far are you?" the brunette asked.

"What?" Miriallia couldn't help but smile endearingly at the adorable confusion on Lacus' face. Nobody could be this cute.

"You wanna ride, don't you?" she smirked.

"Oh, right. Yeah, it's an apartment complex. It's not far, just go –"

"Hey, you two!" Lacus' eyes widened at being cut off and turned to the source of the voice to see a young man swiftly approaching them. She knew this person. The one she'd spoken to before, the one who'd given her this job for the night. Tall; thin; light stubble lined the skin below his chin; he had thick, curly brown hair. "That was quite the performance you two did."

"Thanks," Miriallia smirked.

"So, how much do I owe you girls?"

"We both danced," Miriallia stated. "That should be twenty each."

"You did a bold dance, didn't you? I reward those who go the extra mile. That's another twenty each." He turned to Lacus "You exposed yourself. That's worth an extra twenty, and I suppose the princess made forty as well."

"So, totalled up and divided evenly, that comes to…"

"Forty six dollars each." He handed the cash over to Miriallia. "I'll give the princess her share, too."

"There's only fifty dollars here," Miriallia stated.

"That's what you're owed," the young man replied. "I gave you a little bonus. There a problem?"

"Where's Lacus' share?"

The brunet turned to look at the pinkette once more. "You had a lot of potential, I'll admit. You were nervous, and it showed, but the crowd responded well once the two of you got going. Did you collect any tips?"

"No," Lacus answered, looking down at her suddenly fascinating feet.

"That's too bad. You really shouldn't have left before the dance was over. You have serious work-ethic issues. You know that? I had you scheduled to dance the main stage. You were oblidged to do your job. You failed to comply, so you get nothing."

"I'm sorry!" Lacus demanded, her eyes pleading in a way that Miriallia would never be able to deny. She looked to the young man, but saw no reservations in his features. The pinkette's puppy eyes wouldn't do anything for her here.

"I'm trying to run a respectable business here. I can't have my employees coming and going willy nilly. Surely you can understand that?"

"I know, I was an idiot. It won't happen again."

"How can I believe that? I already gave you a chance, and you let me down."

"It wasn't my fault! She pulled my costume off!" the pinkette offered desperately, shifting the blame to the brunette.

Miriallia flinched as the young man's hand hit Lacus' cheek with a harsh backhand slap.

"You think you can fuck with me and get away with it?" he demanded. "I don't care if she raped you with a fucking wine bottle! The other girls could strip you naked, cover you in honey and push you off the stage into the crowd if they want to. I don't care. I gave you a slot on the main stage. I expect you to fucking dance! I put you on stage, you put on a show, and we all make a lot of money. If you don't dance, you don't get paid, and worse, you make me look like a fucking idiot! All our reputations are on the line, every single night. Do you really expect me to give you another chance to make me look bad? Just how fuckin' stupid do you think I am? If I give you a job, you're obligated to do it. Surely you know that."

"Y-yes," the pinkette admitted. There was nothing she could say.

"Don't be so hard on her," Miriallia defended. She did alright considering this was her first time. She's not used to places like this."

"Then perhaps she should look for work somewhere more appropriate."

"It's not like I haven't tried," Lacus replied under her breath.

"It was my fault," Miriallia defended. "I pushed her too hard. If we stuck to a more… mild dance, she would have been fine."

"That's not my problem. I can't have dancers that don't dance and run off stage because they get scared."

"It was my first time! It won't happen again."

"Why should I give you another chance?"

"Please, I need this! I'll do anything! Don't put me on the stage if you can't trust me, just let me do something. Anything." The man smirked.

"Anything? Forgive me for asking, but… you're not a virgin, are you?"

Miriallia's eyes widened.

"What?" the pinkette asked, taken aback.

"Answer the question."

"You don't have to do that," the brunette assured, placing an arm on Lacus' shoulder.

"No," the pinkette uttered.

"No you're not, or no you won't answer?"

"…I'm not." The young man's lip curled upward.

"Then perhaps I do have a _position_ for you, after all."

"I don't like this," Miriallia stated coldly.

"Since you can't be trusted to work autonomously, I'll give you a job where you can just lay back and take it easy… in a manner of speaking." Miriallia's eyes narrowed.

"Let's go," she said, but the man ignored her.

"How about I strip you naked and chain you to one of the beds?" Lacus eyes widened in shock at the prospect. "You said you'd do anything, right? Even though you ran out before you were done, I think the customers were starting to really like you. I could probably charge a hundred dollars a head. What do you think?"

Lacus' head began to shake. No, not that, anything but that."

"What's wrong, you said anything, didn't you?"

"Stop it, can't you see –"

"No!" Lacus cried. From the corner of her eye she saw the brunet approach her, and without thinking, she reacted.

"Fuck!," the man cursed, clasping at his face where the girl had scratched him. Right hand balled into a fist, pulling back before he lunged, punching her with a hook to the left side of her face.

Lacus fell backward from the force of the blow, and Miriallia jumped to stand between them, trying to protect Lacus, but not quite fast enough to prevent her from being hit.

"Tolle!" the brunet seethed. "I'm warning you, and listen closely, because I'll only say it once. You lay a hand on Lacus one more time, and I'll _never_ speak to you again."

It didn't sound like much of a threat to Lacus, but it seemed to work, judging by the look on his face.

"I didn't mean it, I just… fuck. Seiran warned me about those claws of hers, but… fuck." Tolle examined the fingertips covering his injured flesh, as if checking to see whether or not he was bleeding.

"Are you listening?" Miriallia demanded. Her patience had boiled dry.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, okay?"

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to."

"Okay," he said, turning to the pinkette who was still sprawled out ungracefully on the ground. "I'm sorry."

"It's not that easy," Miriallia replied. You have to make up for it. Redeem yourself. Give Lacus another chance. A _real_ chance. Give her a job she can do. Something she's comfortable with."

"And what if she's not suitable for anything?"

"We won't know until we try. We can put her behind the bar at least. She could be a waitress, or you could have someone show her how to mix drinks. Just give her an honest shot. That's all I ask."

"And If I refuse?"

"You know what will happen. You know as well as I do that you don't have a choice in this. You don't want it getting out that you hit your girls, do you? It may not affect business directly, but how many people do you think are going to want to work for you once news gets out? You're super concerned about your rep, but you know damn well that I have the power to destroy it right here and right now.

"If you give Lacus another chance, we can forget this ever happened. If not… I'll never touch you again."

Tolle's eyes widened. "You mean… no more blindfold?"

Miriallia smirked. She had him cornered now. "That's right. No more, nothing, never again. So? What do you say?"

Tolle looked from Miriallia to Lacus, then back. He was silent for a long while, tossing up his options. He swallowed. Finally, he sighed. "Like you said, I don't have a choice."

"So you'll give her a job?"

"I'll give her a chance. I'm not promising any more than that. If she screws up again, that's it. I'm under no obligation to her, you know?"

"Maybe not, but you do owe me, don't you? Unless you want your sex life to hit a standstill?"

Tolle opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came. He silently turned. "One more chance," he stated. "That's it." With that, he walked away.

Smirking to herself, Miriallia turned to Lacus, helping the pinkette up. "See? No problem I told you I'd get you another chance."

Lacus nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. He didn't hurt you too badly, right?"

"No."

"Good. Now, what do you say we get out of here?" Lacus nodded, but soon looked away. After a moment of silence, a blush began to tint her cheeks.

"Um, Mir?" she asked.

"What is it?" The brunette replied, smiling at the nickname.

"It's just… you made that look so easy."

"What?"

"With Tolle. He was… you know, eating out of the palm of your hand, as people say."

"Oh, that. That was nothing."

"How did you do it?" Miriallia smirked.

"Guys are like putty. You just have to mould them right and they'll be and do whatever you want them to. Guys like Tolle, especially." Lacus looked at her questioningly. "Maybe I'll teach you someday, but forget about that. For now, let's get you home." With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head, and followed her new friend out to the parking lot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **I've noticed something. The vast majority of the reviews for this story seem to be anonymous, ie: by people without accounts, or perhaps people who are not signed in. I'm not complaining, although that does make it more difficult to reply to reviewers. Especially when I forget to respond to them here. I'm just wondering why that might be. The only other time I've seen something like this was for niche porn stories that most people would rather not publicly associate themselves with, such as pairings with Red XIII from Final Fantasy VII, or those containing a hermaphroditic character. Trust me, they're out there. I've seen one for FFVII, two for Kingdom Hearts – one of which appeared to be a carbon copy of the FFVII one, and a couple for Naruto… anyway, as I said, I'm not complaining or anything. It's just an interesting observation, if not an amusing one.

Thank you to all who reviewed. I wasn't expecting votes, but Miriallia seems to be winning 2:1.

**Ekl:** That may be true for some people, but not all. Kira doesn't strike me as that kind of guy. Mu, sure, but probably not Kira. In this story especially. He didn't even loose his virginity to the school bike (stick with the story and You'll see what I mean later,) so I don't particularly see him being too interested in a threesome. I'm not ruling it out completely, but it's probably unlikely. I mean, Mir's up for it, but the other two aren't so sure.

**Guest: **I didn't think Meer would be that suprising… I did mention her in the first chapter… vaguely, perhapse too much so? Anyway, it doesn't really matter.

**Guest: **(See where I was going with the comment about anonymous reviews?) The 'Jimmy Smith' name was from a movie, though I don't think it's ever said in dialogue. That character also goes by a nickname. Also, that idea was for an original story, not a fanfic. I'm not sure a Disclaimer would suffice, though I doubt anyone would sue for such a commonly used name. I think my characer's personality would be more of a problem in that department. (Racism, Sexism, Misogyny, [perhaps those two things are the same?] Homophobia, ect. Like Dr Rockso, He does it all.)

**Guest: **I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and perhaps I should thank you for the 'happy birthday?' I think maybe I should. I think you may have been the first and only one to do so. It's not like it's important, but whatever.

And, thank you to every other reviewer to whom I didn't reply. I'm not playing favorites, I just couldn't think of an appropriate response. Nothing personal.

Oh, and while I'm here, I'm learning to rip DVDs, practicing on Gundam Seed. I'm stretching them to a resolution of 1280x720, compressing them to a bitrate of 1500kbs. It's gone okay so far, but the footage in the AVIs I'm making sometimes looks kinda grainy. Also, I don't know why, but the subtitles seem to get out of sync on the last two episodes of a volume

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p>Settling back into the luxurious, leather seat, the pink haired girl placed her pale, white chin into her palm, elbow resting upon the car door. Periwinkle eyes stared without focus up at the endless dark blue of the sky. The cloudless night almost gave it a dusky purple shade.<p>

Lacus rarely allowed herself the time to stare up like this at the early morning sky.

She turned her head to look at the brunette beside her, took in the flipped hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders. Her hands loosely gripped the steering wheel as she drove. Her bright, aqua eyes stared out ahead at the road. Her expression was perfectly calm. What was she thinking? or was her mind as blank as her features?

Miriallia's eyes briefly flickered to meet those of her passenger, before quickly returning to the road. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Lacus replied, blushing slightly. She hadn't meant to be caught staring. She took to gazing out the window, but then something unexpected happened.

The pinkette's eyes widened as Miriallia took an unfamiliar turn into a backstreet. Where was she going? Hadn't she agreed to take Lacus home? Where were they heading?

"Um, this is the wrong way," she announced.

"Yeah," Miriallia agreed. "There's something I have to do. We'll stop by my place and get you a change of clothes, too. You don't want to go home looking like that, do you?" she asked, referring to the tattered, ruined costume Lacus was wearing beneath the long, borrowed jacket. "If you'll take my advice, you probably don't want your friends and neighbours seeing you in costume."

"Hm," Lacus agreed. She'd be mortified if people she had to deal with daily saw her dressed in one of those tiny, provocative outfits. There weren't many people that still spoke to her. She couldn't afford to lose the few friends she still had.

"Friends, family, neighbours… their understanding only stretches so far," the brunette mumbled, bitterness staining her otherwise positive voice.

Lacus' brow furrowed. "Do you…"

"Know from experience?" Miriallia chuckled softly, though her tone lacked any ounce of humour. "Yeah. I've made a few mistakes in my life, and I've lived to see the consequences. What we do is perfectly legit. We're not hurting anyone, we're not even breaking the law. My line of work carries with it a stigma that should no longer exist, not to mention…"

Lacus turned to watch the brunette. The girl captivated her gaze. "What happened?"

"Guys don't like it when their girlfriends make more money than they do."

Lacus' eyes widened. "I'm sorry."

Miriallia snorted in contempt. "I'm not. I'm better off without him."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The brunette remained silent for a time, as if contemplating. When she finally spoke, it was in a more pleasant voice: One to which Lacus was more accustomed. "Some other time," she said. "Not now."

Lacus went back to looking out at the road as silence washed over the car's interior. The farther they got from the main road, the shabbier the buildings became.

Many of these buildings appeared run down. Wooden walls were unpainted. Many appeared to be rotting from the ground up. The few that contained lawns or gardens were unkempt and overgrown with weeds.

The further they went, the worse things seemed to get.

"Mir?"

"Huh?" the brunette asked, sounding as if she'd just come out of a daze.

"You're running an errand, right? What is it?"

"I need to deliver something somewhere."

Lacus raised an eyebrow. That didn't make any sense. "What are you delivering?"

"Nothing important."

"So you're taking it around here?"

"No, I left it at home. I gotta pick it up first. I'm taking it up near where you said your apartment was. I'll swing my my place and pick it up first. Where almost there, won't be too much longer now. You don't mind, do you?"

Lacus looked away, staring back out the window. "So you live around here?"

"See that big complex up there?"

Lacus looked up on the dark horizon and just managed to see a dully illuminated building looming over the urban wasteland of houses that surrounded them. "Up there? That things gigantic!"

"Thirty fourth floor!" the brunette bragged.

"I've never been to this side of the city," Lacus admitted. This place was so different to her parents' house when she was growing up.

"I'm not surprised, but we're not all so lucky."

"Lucky?"

Miriallia smirked. "Welcome to the poor side of town."

"Did you grow up around here?"

"Since I was born. My school's just a few blocks away. Teachers telling us we'll amount to nothing, bullies hitting us and spitting on us, kids showing up drunk to class and taking tests with hangovers and showing up high to the final exams… good times."

"That's… a joke, right?"

Miriallia's face cracked into a wide grin. "What gave me away?"

"You oversold it a little."

"Okay, so it's not quite like that anymore. It used to be though, or so the old fogeys say. Getting abused by teachers in class, abused by the other kids out of class, walking two hundred miles to school in the blistering cold snow, and in bare feet. Guess they must've felt pretty stupid when the found out the train goes almost right up to the school grounds."

"When has it ever snowed here?"

Miriallia's grin widened. "Hell if I know," she said, "but that's what my father used to tell me. At least I think he was my dad. He's the first one I remember, anyway."

Lacus gave a soft laugh. "You can't be serious."

The smile faltered, "Well, actually, that part was the truth."

"Really?" Lacus wasn't too sure how much weight she should put on the brunette's words.

"Yeah. I don't really know who my real father was. I remember there were a lot of guys hanging around when I was younger, but they never stuck around for long."

As they approached the large complex, Lacus was able to appreciate it in greater detail. It was a dull brown, concrete – by the look of it, and tall. The thing was massive, taking up an entire block.

The footpaths that surrounded it were unsatisfactorily lit up by the odd streetlamp. This definitely wasn't the place one wanted to be after dark. It reminded Lacus of a horror movie setting, and it wasn't any better once they got out of the car. The pinkette felt horribly vulnerable out there, even with Miriallia right by her side.

The building's interior wasn't much better, either. The dull decal and flickering strobe lights still reminded her of a horror movie. Just a different kind of horror movie.

They passed by an open staircase and kept going until they came to what appeared to be a shabby, old elevator. Miriallia pushed the button for 'up,' and they waited.

Nothing happened. Not even a sound.

"What floor are you on?" Lacus enquired.

"Thirty forth," Miriallia answered, offering information she felt sure had been given before.

"How many are there? Floors, I mean."

"I think the top floor is sixty, not including the roof."

"…glad we're not taking the stairs."

Miriallia smirked at the quiet remark. "You know, you should loosen up and say things like that more often," she said, much to the pinkette's embarrassment. "Just pray that the elevator doesn't break down."

"Does that happen often?"

"Not as long as I've been living here, but I don't exactly trust it, you know what I mean?"

"Perfectly." Lacus wouldn't trust it either, if she could help it.

The pink haired girl may have only lived in a one bedroom apartment, but at least it was on the good side of town. It wasn't exactly roomy, but it was comfortable, and loads better than this rickety deathtrap of a complex. Of course, Lacus would never voice those feelings out loud. She didn't want to appear disrespectful of Miriallia's home, or ungrateful for her help and friendship.

For all the pride Lacus put into her rented hovel, there was with it mingled fear. For her tiny one bedroom apartment, Lacus was paying two hundred and fifty dollars a week. Or more accurately: She was being _charged_ two hundred and fifty dollars a week. She hadn't paid up in a while. She was already six months behind in rent, even with her friends chipping in to help her for the last two months.

Lacus would have to face facts soon enough. Her apartment was just too expensive, and too small. How long could she continue to stay there? Was it only a matter of time before she'd have to consider moving to a festering slum such as this?

It wasn't a thought the pinkette wanted to face. She couldn't. It was depressing, and it must have shown on her face, because she caught the brunette beside her staring.

"Um, Mir?"

"I love that nickname," the brunette admitted in a husky voice. "Something wrong?" She hurriedly added.

"No."

"You're face says otherwise."

"My face?"

"Yeah. You look kinda anxious, like something's bothering you. I mean, don't get me wrong, it looks adorable on you, but if you're troubled, make sure you came and talk to me, okay?"

Lacus turned away. Was she that obvious? She really needed to cover herself better, though hiding her emotions had never particularly been a huge talent of hers. Some people excelled at it. Unfortunately, Lacus did not happen to be one of them. It was obvious that Lacus would need to adopt some kind of mask. She didn't want people to know the trouble she was going through. Certain people more-so than others, and–"

Lacus' eye suddenly widened.

She stopped in mid thought.

She turned back to look at the brunette, who thankfully hadn't noticed.

Had Miriallia just called her adorable?

Finally, the elevator door opened with a ding, and Lacus was ushered inside by her short haired companion, who then pushed the button for the fortieth floor.

After a minute, the doors closed, and with a violent jerk, the elevator thrust them upward, leaving Lacus to feel as though she'd been forced through a vaccum.

The inside of Niriallia's apartment was a little better than the impression that Lacus had received from the lobby and from outside, but not by much.

Thin, white, stained carpet lay beneath them. The walls were papered a dank, brown. The living room was a basic one. A low sofa, a couple of old, ratty looking armchairs, and there was a dated television against the back wall. Over on the right side, the room opened up to a kitchenette Similar to Lacus' own. There was a bathroom, and two doors leading to what Lacus presumed to be bedrooms.

"Make yourself at home," Miriallia offered, gesturing toward the furniture. "I might be some time, so… I know the couch is dingy, but it's more comfortable than it looks, trust me."

"Okay, just don't leave me here."

Miriallia broke into a grin. "I won't forget about you, don't worry. Can I get you anything?" At Lacus' bewildered expression, she pressed on. "Tea? Coffee? Beer? Cocoa beans? Peanuts? Name your poison."

"Don't worry about me."

"Come on, I dragged you all the way out here, didn't I? I can at least get you something to drink while you wait."

"Tea then… if it's not too much trouble."

"See? Was that so hard? Wait right here. Take a seat."

* * *

><p>Placing the large, manila envelope tentatively to one side, Miriallia then opened her closet, browsing through the various outfits within, wondering how each would look on lacus.<p>

It didn't really matter. She'd only be borrowing them long enough to get home and change into something of her own. A day, two at the most. Still, she couldn't help but wonder.

She had to pick the best outfit for the job. What would Lacus prefer? Did she normally wear trousers or skirts? Dresses or shirts? Shorts or frocks?

She tried to picture Lacus in each one of her outfits, but instead, her mind kept drifting to Lacus in her underwear, which was far too distracting a thought.

Finally, she settled on a plain white cropped t-shirt and a pair of blue, low-cut jeans. It was far from purposely skimpy, though it would reveal her midriff. It wasn't a particularly extravagant outfit, but it would be good enough. It would cover the girl with enough modesty to get her home without arousing suspicion from any who may see her.

Before heading back out, she threw a long coat over her shoulders, placed the envelope within the inside pocket, and hung the clothes for Lacus from her arm.

"Hey, I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long," she said as she returned to the living room "If you're ready to… go?" The brunette couldn't help the smile that graced her at the endearing sight.

Lacus lay stretched out on the low couch, head resting on the arm, eyes closed, lips parted ever so slightly. The flasher jacket had come open, exposing the milky skin of the girl's chest. White breasts and pink nipples were laid bare to the room, to the brunette. Her hands were crossed elegantly over her stomach which rose and fell with her shallow breathing as she slept.

She looked so content. So peaceful. So adorable.

"I guess I took a little longer than I thought," Miriallia admitted, placing the clothing down on the sofa, next to the sleeping pinkette.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There, I managed to get it up in time. That's the first little part done. I'll be introducing more characters over the next few chapters. I'm leaving tomorrow, so I don't know if I'll be able to write or not while I'm away from home. It depends on how frustrating it is to write on my phone. It runs on Android, and I downloaded a free txt editor, but it's a budget model and only has a 2.3 or something inch screen. I haven't tried writing on it before, save for bulleted lists. I suppose I could take a notebook with me… I don't know**


	7. Chapter 7

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Okay, I'm back, and I've done some things I wouldn't have expected. On the first day, I had to wait around for hours, only to be told I wasn't needed that day. On the second day, they did use me. I thought they'd object and challenge me, but apparently not. Based on who was chalanged, the prosecution must've wanted a jury made up of middle-class white people. Jury of your peers my ass. I also got lost in a city, held up court proceedings by forty five minutes, wrote part of this chapter in the court building while I was waiting, had a Judge ask me if I'd been drinking, lost my wallet, had it returned to me without my money stolen (not sure whether to be more chuffed or surprised about that…) As Rocko would say, "Tuesday, is a very dangerous day."

Since My wallet was returned, my cards were cancelled for nothing, I had to pay a $15 dollar fee for nothing, and now my credit card is no longer linked with my account for some reason. I don't know why, since I don't believe that card was actually cancelled. I don't know what's going on, but it certainly wasn't the best of weeks.

**EKL:** Okay, I get your point. Is Lacus into women though? I didn't think she'd expressed anything concrete about that… yet. As for Kira, you're probably right. Would that fact apply for this story's virgin incarnation of him though? I'm not saying it wouldn't… I'm just a little unsure at this point.

Anyway, this is a plot-based story, by which I mean the actions of the characters must conform to the major plot points I have set out, (though there is some room for leeway,) rather than the plot of the story forming around the characters interactions and events. As I said, I can't give a definite answer right now. From what I have planned, I'm not sure it'll fit in. It's not a definite no, but I'll have to see how the story unfolds.

Another long author's note… sorry about that. Oh, and I drafted this entire chapter on my little phone. That tiny screen makes it easy to push the wrong button on the keyboard, so it was like officer Crabtree (from 'Allo 'Allo) was narrating. Anyway, I think I fixed all the typos, but If any remain, You'll know why.

I'd have had this up sooner. It was ready at least by Thursday. Drafting was finished on Tuesday, I think, but I couldn't upload it. That new copy and paste feature doesn't seem to be working.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p><strong>Miriallia<strong>

The brunette pulled the jacket more tightly around her as she made her way up the familiar lime green hallway.

Miriallia wondered how many times she'd taken this chilly route over the past few weeks.

Her left hand subconsciously reached up to pat the breast pocket of her brown jacket, checking the physicality of its contents, out of some form of paranoid hysteria.

She was so close now. She couldn't afford to be careless. She was almost done. She was almost finished with this job.

She was almost there, Just one last hurdle. All she had to do was deliver the contents of this envelope, and she'd be free of this sticky business for good.

No more would she need to walk this cold, dark corridor. Never again would she have to discuss business with those three sociopaths. Never again would she have to look constantly over her shoulder.

With this last delivery, she was free.

Her troubles were over. Things were looking up.

She couldn't afford to be too optimistic of course. The club had its own share of problems, many of which surely stemmed from Tolleʹs mismanagement of the establishment, but she had to put herself before others. It was the number one rule in this world.

Sure, Tolle was facing his share of problems. So was Lacus, but it was time to take a breather. Time to reflect. Time to take a well-deserved break and give herself a well-deserved pat on the back, and perhaps something a little stronger, now that she had time for rewards.

For all the problems in the world, Miriallia's personal life was in the best place it had been in a long time.

Miriallia was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice the oncoming pink haired girl approaching from the other direction.

The pinkette stared at her with wide blue eyes. She'd stopped walking completely now, leaving Miriallia to close the gap between them.

"Meer?" she voiced aloud, unsure of whether she could believe her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," she answered unhelpfully.

"Do you live here?" The brunette asked.

"Not in this building," the pinkette replied.

She was being evasive. She clearly didn't want anyone to know she was here. But why? What was going on? Could she- Could Meer be here for the same reason she was? The more Miriallia weighed the thought on her tongue, the more it seemed to make sense.

Slowly, the brunette reached into her jackets inside pocket and pulled out the envelope she'd been concealing, showing it to Meer. "Are you here to see Andras too?"

"Yeah, I'm..." The pinkette trailed off there, saying no more to her fellow dancer.

"I won't tell if you don't," Miriallia offered.

Meer simply smiled and thanked the brunette, and they pressed on together, perhaps mutually grateful for the brunettes tact.

Room 207 wasn't far away, but it took the two girls to the far right of the building, in the south most hallway.

The door was a lime green colour, to match the walls and floor. Or, at least it would have been, had it been closed. As it happened, there was nothing within the white timber frame to block the girls' view into the apartment.

Even from where she was standing, Miriallia could tell that this room was much larger than her own.

The apartment's occupant had the living room set up like an office. There was even a desk in the centre of the room. This place wasn't zoned for commercial use. It was illegal to run a business out of an apartment. If he were caught, it would mean big trouble. Then again, He only operated like this after dark. How would anybody catch on? Shani Andras' dealings were spread only through word of mouth. It wasn't as though it were a crime to receive too many visitors.

It all depended on whether the powers at be decided it to be worth checking out the nature of these many late night callers. If he were placed under suspicion, he'd simply close up shop and move again. It wasn't a big deal for him, just a part of life.

Miriallia had known Shani, and had been dealing with him long before he'd settled in here with his partner.

As she entered the room, Miriallia and Meer had to squeeze past a brown haired young man, or perhaps boy would be a more accurate description. He only appeared to be about school age.

Honestly, Shani's customers were getting younger and younger these days.

As they passed one another, the youth kept his eyes trained on the floor, a plastic satchel clutched to his chest, filled with a white powder.

"He's starting a little early, don't you think?" Miriallia commented.

"Gotta catch 'em young," the man replied, leaning back into his chair, watching the girls from under a shaggy set of lime green side swept bangs. "Mir and Meer, What can I do for you?"

Miriallia brandished the manila

Envelope, throwing it down onto the man's desk.

"That the last of it then?" he asked, to which Miriallia nodded and made a confirmative noise, which Shani took to be in the affirmative. "Okay," he coolly replied. "Wait here while I take care of this. What about you," he asked, turning to Meer this time. "Don't yell me you need another fix already."

Meer hesitated for a moment, looking furtively to the brunette. "Just... give me the usual."

"I'll go one better," Shani replied. "I think I'll give you something a little stronger this time. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back. That goes for both of you," he added dangerously.

Picking up the envelope Miriallia had left him, he turned his back on the girls and went into a back room, leaving Mir and Meer, as he called them, to entertain themselves in the oppressive silence of the living room.

"What's the usual?" Miriallia asked.

"Do we have to talk about it?" the other girl replied, a little less than patiently. "What happened to 'I won't tell if you won't?'"

"I was just making conversation," Miriallia defended.

"The inquisitive, nosy people tend to get blasted by these guys."

"Yeah, I know. Curiosity killed the cat." Meer did have a point. Shani and his cohorts tended to be rather dangerous, not to mention violent. "Fine, let's talk about something else then."

"Like what?"

Miriallia shrugged and made her way over to a window. "Nice weather we're having," She quipped, looking out at the monochromatic horizon, and up at the pitch black sky.

The hallways of the building may have been green, but the rooms themselves were primarily white. Well, judging by this one they were.

There were only two large windows in the living room, both set into the same wall. They offered a view, but being on the ground floor, it wasn't anything too impressive or significant, and Miriallia preferred the view from her own apartment.

There was the standard kitchenette on the far side of the room, and along the back wall was a bed.

Shani's? No. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be someone sleeping in it.

A petite, feminine form was curled up, fast asleep. So peaceful, so like Lacus. Not so dissimilar to a cat, napping on a person's furniture.

Miriallia had seen this girl several times over the past couple of months since Shani had moved in with her, though she knew next to nothing about her, save that she was quiet, and stuck to Shani like super glue.

Miriallia had never seen a girl attach herself so permanently to her man as this one.

The question however, was why. What was her angle? What was she hoping to get out of this attachment? Miriallia's method of getting what she wanted was the exact opposite to that of this girl.

Miriallia never attached herself to one partner for long. It had been that way ever since her first and only serious relationship came to a crashing conclusion. She'd learned the hard to avoid the downsides to such entanglements.

Since then, she'd kept things simple. A little companionship to keep the loneliness at bay, a little money in her pocket to keep the debt collectors like Shani at bay, and a little bit of fun to keep the stress of everyday life at bay. The three 'L's.' Simple.

Since the early days, the closest thing she'd had to a real relationship had been with Dearka. They both knew what it was, and neither wanted anything serious, but she'd liked him. She was truly sorry to have to end it, but there was no other choice. Neither of them wanted it to end, but it had to. He just couldn't understand. Miriallia was right to do what she did. It wasn't easy or pleasant for anyone involved, but it had to be done.

It was for the best that she ended it when she did. Miriallia rarely dated anyone for longer than a few months. Even Tolle had only been seeing her for couple of weeks.

This girl though, she was different.

Thick, blonde hair reached almost to her shoulders, and carried the faint scent of coconut, as though she had recently bathed. Her baby soft skin was flawless and lightly tanned. Her skin was like that of a teenager, but free of the aforementioned acne, oil or blemishes. Even in these unflattering bedclothes, Miriallia could make out her lithe, petite frame. With everything she had to offer, this girl still remained a faithful monogamist.

There was no doubt that this girl was attractive. Not as much so as Lacus, but it was there. She was definitely cute. Especially the way she acted toward Shani. Her meekness was a valiant asset, and she knew it.

Her game was hidden, unintelligible. What was she up to? What did she want from Shani? Perhaps this was something different. Did the girl want his money, or did she want him?

Maybe she just wanted to be seen with him, to be seen as Shani Andras' girlfriend. For what reason though? He wasn't a bad guy exactly, but he had more than his fair share of problems. His personality for one. His temper for another.

Was the blonde after money, security, or status? Shani could certainly provide all three in bucket loads. Maybe she needed his protection. Shrugging her shoulders of the issue, Miriallia supposed that to be as good a reason as any.

She'd never likely know the real reason. She supposed it didn't really matter. Meer was right. It really was none of her business. It would be no use asking Shani about it, and the blonde wouldn't talk either.

At that moment, Shani returned, carrying a package similar to the one Miriallia had brought him.

"Catch," he said, passing the packet through the air to the pinkette.

Meer, who barely managed to hold onto the package with her long, thin fingers, thanked him and made to leave.

"Don't thank me," the greenet replied. "Just make sure you pay up."

"I will," Meer solemnly agreed.

"Remember," Shani warned, "That shit's a lot stronger than what you're used to. Twice the buzz, twice the crash, twice the price."

"What about me," Miriallia interjected. "Am I done here?"

"Everything is present and accounted for. Unless you'd like to buy, you're free to go."

Miriallia nodded and turned to leave. "You want to go do something?" she offered the pinkette.

Meer made a few shifting glances from Miriallia, to her wristwatch, and to the package nestled securely in her hands, pinned to her bosom like a mother's new-born. "It's kind of late," she replied.

Miriallia checked her watch. It was a little after three AM. "Guess I'll head home then," she replied with an indifferent shrug.

After saying their goodbyes, the two girls parted ways and walked out into the cold, dark street, each in the direction of their respective vehicle.

Meer was right again. It was getting late, though the brunette doubted that the other girl had sleep on her mind. It had been a long night after all, and a lot had happened.

After all this, Miriallia was eager to go to bed, and not necessarily her own: The brunette wasn't in the mood for sleeping alone, and she didn't particularly care whether she got any sleep at all.

Miriallia entered her car and started the ignition. As she pulled into the empty road, a familiar lustful smirk crept its way across her face.

After all, why should the fun stop here? The night was young, and so was she. Young, willing, and eager in fact. That was a winning combination no matter how she cut it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **

Damn, has it really been two years since I updated this. Sorry about that. I've been busy, so haven't had time to write. When I did write, it was mostly original stuff. A lot has happened since last chapter. I went on a course, got a part time job washing dishes in a cafe, and now I'm working full time, 6 days a week, which doesn't leave a lot of time to write.

Just thought I'd mention that I did wind up playing Battle Destiny. It's fun, but I think it moves too fast. The graphics and controls are a lot better than on the psp games, but I kind of prefer Universe. I also just got extreme vs, so that's always fun, right, although I miss the operators and more complete roster of rengou vs zaft 2 plus, not to mention putting any seed/destiny pilot in any mobile suit (even Lacus.) Yeah, it was gratuitous fanservice, but hey, it was fun. I do get why that wouldn't work now though, but I have some issues with the roster. Deathscythe and forbidden? No impulse? Why is Luna stuck in a Zaku, and why is the Freedom paid DLC? They also scaled down the arcade mode bosses, took out the characters talking to each other during loading screens, and why is Linkin Park doing the Theme song? When I hear them, I think of Transformers, not Gundam. Anyway, rant over. I may talk about this more on my website.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed  
>This chapter has been edited. Find the uncut version on my website.<br>Warnings: Lime, Lemon, simulated incest

* * *

><p><strong>Tolle<strong>

The young man took a deep breath. Who the hell could this be, pounding on his door at this time of night? Didn't they know how busy he was? "I swear," he grumbled, running a hand through his brown curls, "if you're not naked and drunk…"

His hand fumbled against the wall as he walked in the dark, fingers brushing against a light switch.

He blinked his eyes, hand running down his face as he grew accustomed to the light. Inhaling a large breath, he sighed as one who has woken fro ma deep sleep in an early morning.

As the banging continued, the young man made his way down the stairs, lights turning on as he passed from hall to hall.

Eventually, he found himself before the large, varnished, walnut door.

Lazily, his hand drifted up to turn the key in the lock and open the door. There he saw her: Aqua eyes, short brown hair, the same clothes she'd been wearing earlier that night, though now they were ruffled and messed up. "Miri?" he asked, "What are you doing here?" Her eyes carried their familiar glaze, and her grin said it all. "You've being drinking, haven't you."

Miri's grin widened. "Maybe a little," she laughed.

"Pick anyone up?"

"No takers, so I thought I'd come here."

The young man glanced behind him at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. "No takers, huh? Can't imagine why."

Miri laughed again, an infectous sound that soon had the young man smiling as well.

"You may as well come in." Letting loose a short giggle, the girl brushed past him and entered the hall.

"Tolle…."

"What?"

"It's so bright in here. Like a fairy."

"Fairy?" the brunette asked, shaking his head. Sure, she'd been drinking alright, and she'd had more than a few by the sound of it. "And it's bright because all the bloody lights are on." He closed the door, turning the cheap, aluminium key in a clockwise direction.

"Locking me in?"

Tolle smirked. Turning to face the girl, he approached her.

"You've got nowhere to go, Miri. What now?"

The girl's grin widened, her eyes meeting tolle's, teeth exposed. Like a predator of the savannah, she pounced.

Lips locking onto those of the young man, Miriallia forced her tongue into his mouth, making her intent clear from the start. One hand glided up his back, coming to grasp tightly at the brunet curls on the back of Tolle's head, and walking backwards through the familiar layout, she guided him over to the living room sofa, onto which they both collapsed in an ungraceful heap.

The fall separated the join of their faces, and Tolle took his opportunity to speak. "Miri, do you really want to do this here?"

The girl giggled. "Do what, silly?" she teased, feigning ignorance in her common way that drove the young man mad.

"You started this," Tolle replied. "You know where this is going. Don't you want to go up to the bedroom?"

"Come on, Tolle. You're not going to make me go up all those stairs, are you?"

The brunet smirked, pulling the girl onto him. "You're so lazy," he remarked, his voice low and deep.

Miriallia giggled, leaning down to meet the young man's lips, she invaded his warmth once more, her tongue gliding over his, repositioning herself so that she straddled Tolle, grinding against him smoothly, like components in a well-oiled machine. "Look who's talking," she slyly retorted, breaking the kiss only long enough to speak, before fervently devouring him once again, eliciting a small groan of approval from below.

Between the miniskirt that had ridden up to her waist and the boxer shorts that Tolle must have been sleeping in, there wasn't much between their joined crotches. The satin of Tolle's shorts, and the white fabric of Miriallia's panties didn't offer much padding, so the brunette was able to feel the fruits of her labour.

She could easily feel the young man's excitement mature, feel his growing hardness press against her.

Miriallia sat up strait, still straddling her boyfriend, still grinding against him in slow, circular, hypnotic rhythm. Staring lustily down into his eyes, the brunette shed her jacket, the heavy garment falling to a heap on the floor behind them.

Arms crossed over her abdomen, hands gripping the hem of her orange t-shirt. That, was the next to go.

Hands on Tolle's shoulders, she slowly trailed them down, stopping at the young man's nipples, teasing them through his t-shirt before they continued on their way down.

Slipping her fingers beneath the fabric, she slowly lifted the t-shirt.

Like a curtain rising on a stage, the t-shirt was gradually raised, inch by inch, revealing more of the young mans's flat, smooth, pale stomach.

Tolle sat up, bare skin of his abdomen pressing flat against that of the aqua eyed seductress straddling his lap.

Miriallia took the opertunity to lift the shirt up and over his head,as though he were a child, and she his perverse mother. Grin widening, she went with the unexpected inspiration.

"Be a good boy," she cooed, as though talking to a nursling, "and let mother undress you.

Tolle's muffled complaint distracted the grinning brunette from her thoughts. She tugged the shirt harder.

"Hm," She replied. "I think it's stuck."

"I know it's fucking stuck! Get it off me!" His threat lost some effectiveness, muffled as it was by the t-shirt.

"Aw, is the wittle boy in a bad mood?" the girl teased. "Such naughty language for such a good boy." Miriallia knelt over the young man and with one hand, gripped the throbbing hardness through the soft satin of his shorts. "So big and hard for such a little boy," she continued in her high pitched, cooing, baby talk. "He must really love his mother."

"Would you cat that out and get this shirt off my head?" Tolle replied, attempting to remove the garment for himself.

"The little boy is so flustered. You've become so hot and bothered, haven't you?" She lay her child down on the sofa, still perched above him and began gently stroking his shaft through his soft, smooth underwear. Her movements were slow, gentle, and slight. So gentle, barely anything at all, but she managed to elicit a soft moan from the boy. "Would you like that?"

At Tolle's lack of response, Miriallia stopped the movements of her hand, causing him to groan in protest.

"Would you?"

"Do we have to do this?" the boy asked, finally managing to dislodge red face from the t-shirt and throwing it to the ground.

"I told you you'd get a big head."

"I'm a big boy," Tolle remarked, rolling his eyes.

"That's right." Miriallia tightened her grip on the brunet's warm, seven inch member. "Such a big boy. Just like his daddy."

"Miri," he pleaded.

"So big. What a dirty boy you are, getting so excited in front of your mother. Naughty boy. How dare you let your dick get so hard in your mother's hand."

"Miri," the boy groaned.

"Say you're sorry."

"No."

"Tolle, apologise right now." She tightened her grip, firmly squeezing the appendage. "Apologise for your bad behaviour. Say you're sorry for being so dirty. Say you're sorry and…" the girl's smirk made one more appearance. "And I'll kiss it better."

Tolle was silent. He didn't even make a sound at the girl's abuse of his now painfully engorged organ.

Miriallia stroked the appendage and watched Tolle's expression soften, Once, twice, and then she stopped.

"If you're going to be stubborn," she demanded, I'll leave, and you can take care of your own booboos." She released him and stood to her feet.

"No!," Tolle complained. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Go on then, say it."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Miriallia stood, dressed only in a white bra and miniskirt. She leaned down over him. The boy whimpered as she once again claimed in her hand what was hers.

Tolle sighed. Resigned, he submissively complied. "I've been a bad boy." Miriallia grinned, a glint of evil sparkling unnaturally in her bright blue eyes.

"Why are you a bad boy? What did you do?"

"Miri, please, do we have to do this? It's embarrassing."

"Say it!"

"I…" Blushing, he submitted. "I'm sorry for getting hard in my mother's hand. I'm sorry for being such a sick, dirty bastard. I'm sorry that my mother gave me an erection, but you gotta admit," smirking, Tolle's tone dropped. "She's pretty fucking hot. Aand if you forgive me, I'd love you to kiss it better."

"Who? Who am I?"

"You know."

"Say my name." Miriallia's devious smirk widened. "Call me you mother. Tell me what you want, you sick bastard. Tell me you want your mother to fuck your brains out."

"I want you. I want release. I want you to suck me dry and swallow it down. Drink me like a yardstick."

"You didn't say my name, Tolle."

Tolle smirked, the lustful deviance now spreading. "Fine, I'll say it. Mom, suck my dick."

"Such naughty language, but why so formal? Why can't you call me something a little more intimate, huh? Maybe you'd rather have a bedtime story?"

"I don't want a story, Mama, I want you. I want to shove this big baby dick of mine in your mouth and let me feed you. Suckle from your little boy's dick the way he suckles from your teat." Tolle grabbed the brunette by her arms and pulled her down onto him. If she wanted to play, that was fine. He'd play Miri's messed up games. "I wanna fuck you, mommy." He spoke in a low tone. "I want to cum inside you and make you a grandma."

"That's better. Now, let mother take care of you." Her fingers were down at her boy's waist, and with one swift, fluid movement, his shorts were off.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do you think? I don't have much practice writing sex scenes so I'm really looking for feedback. This wasn't technically my first lemon, but it was my first consensual one. The other two involved underage, interspecies, bondage rape so, you know, it didn't matter so much if nobody got aroused. It was supposed to be horrifying. In this case though, I wanted to try something short and sweet, tame and simple. I don't think it worked, and I wound up with an insane incest role-play.<strong>

**Between me and Miriallia, I don't think we have what it takes to be tame and innocent. I'm just not sure how to write vanilla stuff. What can I say? I'm a degenerate.**

**Okay, so I know what you're thinking. I kept you waiting over a year for less than 2000 words? Well, I haven't been writing this story much, and it was hard to write. Plus, it took forever to proof. Anyway, this is the censored version for . The uncut chapter is about 5000 words and I'll be putting it up on my website, . It should be up sometime tomorrow. Let me know what you think of my website, and remember to give me some feedback/critiques of the full chapter. I did have to cut some awkward descriptions, so I hope it's not too bad. I also have links to my original stories up there if you're interested. One is high fantasy, one is science fiction (largely inspired by Mass Effect, Warhammer 40k, and Neon Genesis Evangelion. Think the scope of a Space Opera but with the attitude of Cyberpunk.) I also have the first chapter for a Vampire story drafted, so that should be up soon.**

**I'm going to be posting fanfics on my website from now on. They'll still be here too, but the lemons will probably be cut out to better comply with 's TOS. Full, unadulterated chapters will be on my website. I don't think I have a big enough following to worry about being reported for inappropriate content, but better safe than sorry, right? The site should be easy enough to navigate, but tell me if you have any trouble. You should also be able to subscribe to my posts, or if you find it easier, all my posts should be linked to facebook. I'm not a big social person and I don't really use it much, other than to follow a few people online, but feel free to follow me or send a friend request or whatever. URLs should be at the top of my profile page.**

**By the way, I've started drafting the next chapter. It should be done soon, and it'll shift the focus back to Lacus.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Ya know, it seems like every time I post a chapter, I have some measure of bad news to tell. I got sick while writing this. Just a cold, but still, I tend to hang on to them for months. By the time I get over this one, I'll probably have caught another.

I was actually doing pretty well this year. I think this may be my first cold all year. I usually get them on my birthday and when the seasons change.

Oh, and by the way, it looks like someone's hacked my Hotmail account.

Just a quick question: For those of you that haven't been put off the Vita by Sony's barely legal contracting clauses: I was wondering if any of you have played **Gundam Seed Battle Destiny** yet. I don't know Bandai's plan, but if you have a Vita, you should probably support this game before it goes out of print. I have a feeling that unless Battle Destiny is a success, they're not going to touch the Cosmic Era again with a ten foot pole.

It looks good from what I've seen, though I obviously haven't played it. I have played Battle Royal however, (the second in the series. Destiny is what, the sixth? Something like that.) That was okay. It was far from flawless, with awkward controls, and not as good as the other Gundam games I've played on PSP: Rengou vs Zaft Portable, Gundam vs Gundam Next Plus, ect, but you know, it's fun. If anyone's looked into it, I'll be interested to hear your thoughts.

And while we're on the subject of Games, I finally got my hands on Rengou vs ZAFT II PLUS (also known as OMNI vs ZAFT and Alliance vs ZAFT) Unfortunately, it was never ported to PSP so you'll need a PC capable of emulating (which works surprisingly well on mine,) or some way of playing imports on your console (modchip, etc.) If you are interested, people have started selling it once more on Ebay, so get in while you can. Anyway…

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

**Shani**

Shani clutched the brown paper bag to his chest as he leaned back against the elevator wall. This thing always took forever to get up. Cruddy, old, piece of shit… he was only going one story up. Why the hell was this useless piece of fucking shit taking so long? All the other apartment buildings had much faster equipment than this. His old place had a faster elevator than this, and that one was practically falling apart.

The paper bag rustled in his arm as his grip tightened against it. The young man sighed and the elevator dinged. Finally the doors were beginning to open, and Shani stepped out into a lime green hallway.

It was eight in the morning. People were heading out just as he was coming in. Heading out to their jobs, or school, or wherever they were going. The greenet didn't particularly care.

He noticed the way that they all avoided his eyes and gave him a wide berth in the halls. They'd heard the rumours about him. They knew who he was. He'd only been here for a couple of months now, but he already commanded torrents of respect and fear.

Shani made his way through the isle parted for him by the people as they hurried to get past him, to avoid him. Perhaps he should have been insulted, but he didn't care. As long as they paid their debts, and as long as they didn't get in his way, whatever fool things they did was their concern, not his.

That was the code Shani had abided by all this time, and he would continue to stick to it. It had always served well in the past.

Finally, he reached his room. Inserting his small, silver key into the lock, he turned and opened the door, closing it behind him.

Shani walked over to the table that often served as his desk in the evenings, and placed the paper bag down. Yanking the headphones from his ears with a lazy hand, he pulled the portable music player from his back pocket and switched it off, noting the cacophony of treble filling the otherwise silent room as he did so.

He placed the device carefully on the table next to the large paper bag so he'd know where it was. It was essential that he didn't lose something as important as his music. He never left home without it.

Home at last. It had been a long morning. As he made his way to the kitchen, his eye was caught by a strange lump in the blankets of the bed. So there she was. Shani pushed the blonde from his mind as his arm groped for the coffee grinder.

As the machine worked, the lanky greenet slid into a conveniently placed chair beside the bench. Face resting in his claw-like hand, he lent his elbow against the countertop.

His eye glanced once more toward the bed against the back wall. He noticed the bed sheets moving, contorting.

Good, it was about time she got up.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room and Shani poured himself a black cup. As he made his way over to an old armchair, the silence was penetrated by a quiet moan.

Shani felt a knowing smirk creep its way up his face as he sat down in his favourite chair. As he sipped the black liquid, he suddenly got the feeling he'd be waiting a little longer for the blonde than he'd thought.

Taking another mouthful of the scolding liquid, Shani placed it down on the floor at his feet. His eyes glanced once more over to the girl. Leaning back into his chair, he watched as her ministrations added to the sounds and smells of the room.

She tossed and turned under the blanket like a child playing ghost, her breathing quickening with each movement she made. Her excitement seemed to grow with every passing second, and the noises she made with it, until Shani was able to hear her voice in every breath.

Shani drank more from his mug, eyes glazing over as the girl's movements steepened and her body convulsed under the heavy blankets. With an audible moan, the girl spasmed as though having a fit. She cried out, her muffled voice forming a name. Her body finally relaxed after her morning's work.

"Neo…" the girl murmered, speaking around her heavy breathing.

Shani smirked once more. Him again. For all her fantasies about the guy, Shani still had no idea who he was. Was he the blonde's ex-boyfriend, or had she simply made him up? "No such luck," he remarked. "Neo's not here. You'll have to settle for me instead."

Suddenly, the girl popped her blonde head out from underneath the blanket. Wide, magenta eyes peered innocently at the greenet. "Shani?"

The young man smirked once more. It was amazing how Stella could be who she was, and still look so innocent while doing the things she did. It was a talent very few possessed, and it drove most guys crazy.

He was honestly lucky to have found her. "If you're all finished," he continued, I bought you breakfast."

The girl's eyes glazed. She looked as though the mere mention of food would get her drooling all over the place. "What did you get me?"

"It's on the table," Shani replied, taking another gulp of coffee. "See for yourself."

Stella nodded and slipped out of the blankets, wearing only a pair of black panties.

Shani downed more of his drink as he casually took in the familiar sights. Though he'd seen her body a thousand times, he never tired of it.

The girl's medium length, blonde hair reached down to her chin. Her body wasn't toned in any sense, but she was thin. She had actually put on quite a bit of weight since she first met up with Shani, which said a lot, considering her current shape.

Stella had come a long way from the pathetic wretch he'd found begging on the streets. The other guys had scoffed at him at the time for his charity, but they all saw her now. Showing pity for the girl was probably the best thing Shani had ever done. She'd paid him back every cent, and then some.

Stella had the curves many would die for, but it hadn't always been that way. When he'd first taken her in, the blond had been little more than a stick figure. She never said a word, she stunk worse than a cheap whorehouse, and she'd thrown up on him more than once.

Where most would have passed her by, Shani brought her home. Where better men would have felt contempt, Shani felt sympathy. Where his cohorts would have preyed on her addiction, Shani cleaned her up. He didn't want to think where she'd be if he hadn't. Her life probably wouldn't be worth living, if she even had one to live.

Stella wasn't exactly appealing back then, but now; she was stunning: Possibly the single greatest investment the greenet had ever made, and not just from a financial standpoint, though the blonde did earn a killing. Things had changed so much since those dark days. Shani's lip curled. All things considered, he was glad he'd stuck with her.

The blonde turned around, and the greenet got a glimpse of her front; an unobstructed view of her firm, free, D-size breasts.

The girl's flat stomach revealed that the pale skin of her face did match that of her entire body. The white skin, tinged with pink, was of a girl who 'should get out more,' as many the casual observer had pointed out. Little did they know?

Stella got out more than most, just not during the day. Her night schedule was chock, which left her sleeping through the mornings, and during most of the day. Shani usually allowed the girl to sleep in for that very reason, but today was special. Shani would be out all day, and he didn't like the thought of leaving the blonde on her own for too long, even now. He had no choice other than to take her with him.

Shani smirked in amusement as the girl rifled through the paper bag, retrieving the various baked goods he'd provided for her. The greenet drained the last of his coffee as he watched the girl happily devour a pastry. "Stella," he voiced, standing to his feet. The girl didn't respond verbally, but her eyes latched onto his: her sign that she was listening. "It's a busy day today. You'd better get dressed. We're heading out as soon as you're ready."

"Okay," the girl replied. Whatever Stella may have been like in the past, she was so easy to deal with now. She was so obliging. So willing, as though she couldn't say no. At least, if she had the ability, she'd never exercised it. Not to him, anyway. That was one of the best things about Stella. It could, of course, also present itself as a liability, but for the most part, it had worked to Shani's advantage.

Sure, he had to keep an eye on her, but that wasn't a huge deal. Besides, Shani quite enjoyed having the blonde nearby. She followed him about like a puppy: All the loyalty of a hound, but with none of the threat or protection, so she was honestly more like a lapdog or some kind of pup.

Shani smiled as he watched the girl. Not just a smirk, but a genuine smile. They were rare, but they happened. That's what she was. She was his. His own, nobody else's. Stella was his lapdog, now and forever. "Come on," he spoke, forcing a straight face as he crossed the kitchen. "Get a fucking move on, would you? We gotta get moving." Stella looked at him for a moment, then her lip curled.

"We've gotta go," the blonde repeated. "Places to see, people to screw, right?" The words seemed so strange coming out through Stella's subdued monotone.

Shani snorted, shaking his head slightly. He'd have to remember to keep her away from those two in future. "Clotho's a bad influence on you, he stated."

Stella shook her head. "You're a worse role model than he is."

Shani succumbed to the corners of his mouth as they tugged upward. "You're probably right about that." He placed the empty mug in the sink and turned around to face the blonde. "Come on, get dressed."

The blonde nodded in compliance. "okay," she agreed, heading to one of the back rooms.

Stella was so obliging. She never said no to him. Sometimes it could be a liability, but in the grand scheme of things, it had always worked out for the best. She may not have been the most threatening of henchmen, and she may not have possessed much in the way of physical strength, but she was his. His lapdog, and there was nobody he'd rather have behind him. Besides, Shani's presence and reputation provided security enough for them both. Not to mention his associates.

Shani had friends in high places, and word travelled fast in the underground. If anything happened to either him or Stella, the witless bastards responsible would be drowning in their own blood before the week was out. Clotho and Orga would make sure of that. Speaking of which….

The greenet pulled out his vibrating phone to see a new message on the screen.

'Where the fuck R U?' Definitely Clotho.

He was about to put the phone away when it vibrated, and a new message popped up.

'You two better get your asses down here now!' That had to be Orga. Shani could tell by the more formal language. Well, formal for the three of them.

The greenet wondered if he should wait for a third message, but when none came, he called out. "Stella, we have to get going!"

"Okay!" the girl replied from the next room.

No more than a few seconds later, she emerged wearing a black, formfitting, sleeveless turtleneck and jeans, under what had once been a leather jacket – mostly white, but with patches of light pink running down the sides under the arm holes: Stella had removed the sleeves herself, so the jacket was really more of a vest.

"Ready?"

Stella noded. "Let's go," she answered.

Shani moved for the door, subconsciously picking up his music player and pocketing it as he passed the table.

As they walked, Shani placed an arm around the blonde at his side and shot Orga a quick reply:

'On our way.'

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, propaganda time. There's another petition against the trolls, requesting that MA rating be returned to fanfiction. I don't know whether it will accomplish anything, but we may as well sign it. "If you just did nothing because you thought it wouldn't help, then you'd end up doing less than nothing, for nothing would change and nothing would end." Besides, it's sure to be more productive than telling the cretinous fucktards to get lives.<strong>

**Head over to 'www. change. org' the page in question is /petitions/avenger-we-want-fanfiction-to-create-a-ma-rating**

**By the way, I also have accounts on Livejournal and Ficwad. I may as well be prudent and look forward. I don't have a big following, but if any of my stories do happen to be removed for whatever reason, look for me there.**

**Who's interested in a lemon detailing what Miriallia got up to at the end of her night? Just wondering. Keep in mind though, I don't have a lot of practice with them, so it may not be too good. Just thought I'd put it out there.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part one: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes:** thanks to everyone that reviewed the new chapter. It would be nice to have some in depth reviews though. I don't have much experience with sex scenes, so any feedback would be appreciated. I just want to point out that the chapter I uploaded last week was not chapter 9, it was chapter 8. If you could, do me a favour and go back and read chapter 8. If my suspicions are correct, most of you may not have actually read that one yet. For quick reference, chapter 8 is a Tolle/Miriallia lemon. If you haven't read it yet, go back and read it. Then, find the full, uncut version on my website, and read that. Finally, if you could give me some feedback on how I can improve for the next lemon, I'd greatly appreciate it.

**Dislaimer**: I don't Own Gundam Seed

XX

**Lacus**

Slowly, lids of snow gave way to eyes of lightest periwinkle as they opened to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The walls were a dingy, grey, off-white. the carpet was the same colour, only a few shades darker, contrasting the dirty looking white ceiling. As far as first impressions went, Lacus didn't think much of this room at all. honestly, the room was in serious need of a makeover or renovation.

The only real source of life and colour to be had was the orange bed in which the pink haired girl lay.

Blinking the last recesses of the receding sleep from her eyes, she raised an arm to shield herself from the intruding sunlight that poured in through the blinds on the window. The annoyance was presented in parallel lines, as though the window were locked with horizontal bars, like in some kind of prison or condemned building.

Where was she, and how did she get here?

What happened last night? Lacus tried to think back over the events of the previous day, and nearly passed out from the rush of embarrassment and humiliation that washed over her.

The girl allowed her eyes to wander. there were several tables in the room. Two doors, a vanity, a set of drawers, and a large chest. Then her eyes fell upon a digital clock with a large red display.

It was after twelve. Lacus had slept through the entire morning. How had she slept in so late, and why didn't she recognise this room?

The last thing she remembered from the night before was waiting for Miriallia, that was right. The brunette had brought her home and served her a cup of tea before leaving her on her own. Then what? Had Lacus fallen asleep, or was there more to it than that? Truth be told, the other girl had brought Lacus to the shady part of town, and she didn't really know anything about these people. Could she really trust any of them? Maybe Miriallia had sold her out, or maybe something had happened to her... or maybe Lacus' mind was running away with her.

Releasing a pent up sigh, the girl sat up and allowed the bedclothes to fall as she raised her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with long, thin, fingers.

As the blanket fell, it revealed the perfect, pale, unblemished, tight skin of her bare body. Her physique, skinny, long and thin. Her navel, like a dark pocket in pure, white satin. Her breasts, not as large as some of the women she'd seen in the club last night, but still appealing; the colour of milk, nipples small and bright, like tiny cherries sitting atop mounds of whipped cream.

Stifling a yawn, the girl blinked.

_Wait a minute_, she considered, _what happened to my outfit?_

Her skimpy, tattered costume from the night before. It was nowhere to be found.

Carefully, slowly, lacus pulled down the blanket, peeling it from her bare skin, revealing her abdomen, her waist, her hips, the tops of her legs, until she just saw the tiniest hint of pink hair.

Lacus froze dead. Eyes wide, breath caught, heart racing.

Where were her clothes? Where were her panties? Who's bed was she in, and why the hell was she nude? Who had undressed her, because she certainly didn't do it herself.

Finally, to top off her episode of fear and heighten the white chill of terror that tore and nipped at her spine, a distant sound penetrated her ear...

No, it couldn't be. She was hearing things, wasn't she? It was just her mind playing tricks. It had to be.

The girl sat in silence, eyes shut tight, listening intently, using all of her might.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Just when Lacus thought it was safe to breathe again, she heard it. The sound of doors opening, utensils rustling, like a house being invaded, ransacked. Was someone going through draws and cupboards maybe? Searching for something perhaps? Who was it, what did they want, where was she, and how did she get here? Lacus didn't know the answers to any of these questions, but she did know one thing: Whoever they were, they were getting closer.

Lacus was not alone!

XX

**Okay, another short chapter, and I mean really short this time, but hear me out. It was going to be longer, but that seemed like such a good place to leave it. Next chapter will be a longer one, I promise, plus it's already drafted, so you shouldn't have to wait too long. Give it a few days.**

**I wrote these two chapters together, mostly late at night, like, 1 or 2 in the morning. I'm not sure whether that affected them in any way or not. Anyway, I'll let you be the judge of that.**

XXX


	11. Chapter 11

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part one: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes:** Okay, here's the other chapter I promised. I was writing it alongside the previous one so that's why I got it done so soon. It's also a little longer. I'm gonna be honest here. This chapter was not in the original plan. It just kind of happened. I wasn't going to go this way, but it should be all right. I don't think it'll change my plans for the future plot too much. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p><strong>Shani<strong>

The young man with the green hair walked through the door into the large, white room, Stella closely in tow as usual, allowing the door to swing gently closed behind them.

The room was carpeted and large windows allowed sunlight to illuminate the surroundings while giving them a third story view of the street below.

Against the back wall was a leather sofa and several armchairs, upon which two young men sat.

The youngest of the two, a red haired teenager slouched over on the sofa, a portable video game console in his hands. He barely looked older than fifteen. His fingers clicked at the buttons and the tinny speakers produced the sounds of fast-paced music and gunshots, accompanied by the occasional scream or shout of cheesy action-style dialogue. The teenager was so engrosed in his game that he didn't even acknowledge the new arrivals. He may not have even noticed them enter.

Across from him, an older boy sat in one of the armchairs, his nose in a paperback book that he held open in one hand. The blond sat with a laid-back posture, one leg crossed over the other. "Took you long enough," he casually said without looking up from his book.

"Is he here yet?" Shani asked, taking a seat at the vacent end of the sofa. Stella, following suit, sat in the middle, taking her place between Shani and the younger red haired teen.

"No," replied Orga, the blond boy with the book, "And a good thing, too. You know how much he hates it when people are late, or when they keep him waiting. That reminds me, what are your takings like? Clotho hasn't been having much luck pushing the new merchandise."

As if at the mention of his name, the redhead cursed loudly and shut off the game. "The fuck is that bullshit," he exclaimed.

"If that game's as bad as your complaining implies, why do you even play it?" Orga asked him.

"Hey, I have to practice my skills."

"Of all the things to get addicted to, you have to go and choose a video game."

Clotho rolled his eyes at the blond. "Anyway, it's not my fault nobody's buying that bastard's crazy new drug. How the fuck am I supposed to sell to school kids? They don't got no money."

"I'm down this month as well," Shani admitted.

"I'll bet. That bastard's not gonna be happy with you two," Orga said, "What with Clotho's lack of progress and you giving away so many freebies."

"He's never happy," Shani retorted, "besides, I have other sources of income. He'll get his money back, he'll just have to be patient."

"Asking Azrael to be patient is like asking Satan to turn down the thermostat in hell," Orga countered.

At that moment, the man of the hour strolled into the room, bringing an effective end to the conversation.

Gliding into the room, the blond man moved smoothly and suavely. His pale skin matched his stiff white collared shirt, while his eyes matched his baby blue suit. His blonde hair was parted on the left and he wore a self satisfied, smug smirk on his face. His eyes darted over to the sofa and he took a seat in an armchair opposite the four youths, crossing his legs as Orga had done earlier. "hello boys," he greeted pleasantly.

Orga and Clotho both sat up, the blond snapping shut his book and placing it in his lap.

Contrary to the other two, Shani and Stella didn't acknowledge Azrael's entrance. The greenet didn't shift his posture, though he did dart his eyes to glance in the man's direction. Stella on the other hand, paid him no mind. She wasn't technically a part of this meeting anyway. Though the meetings were private, the girl had previously been initiated into their organisation, so her presence was tolerated. She wasn't likely to tell anyone what she heard, and besides, she went wherever Shani went, following him like a loyal dog.

"So how are we doing this afternoon?" The three exchanged glances, but remained silent. "Did nothing noteworthy happen? Any interesting dreams? No? Well, no matter. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, lets get down to business.

"I have been looking over your figures for the last month, and..." Azrael paused, thinking over his choice of words carefully. "I am not impressed. business is down and the new product isn't selling as well as we'd hoped. Not only that, but there seem to be grave inconsistancies between units moved and cash received. There seems to be quite a large sum of money that has simply put, been misplaced."

The man pulled out a laptop and began flicking through spreadsheets and reports.

"I can't understand it. It's almost as if someone here isn't committed to the team." There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of keys clicking as Azrael typed. "I say, you're not trying to fuck me, are you boys?"

The youths before him froze in place, eyes wide at not only the insinuation, but also the graphic metaphor with which it had been delivered.

"I sincerely hope not," Azrael brazenly continued, "because I can assure you, I most certainly am not a faggot."

The three young men exchanged glances in silence. The same thought could be felt to run through all three of their minds. This was dangerous.

"Neither are we!" Clotho exclaimed. He almost seemed indignant.

"Good," Azrael casually replied, not looking up from his monitor. "I should hope not, but that raises a question: Why are we down? Our dealers aren't selling. People aren't paying back the money they owe us. Even our racketeering revenue seems to be down, and street gangs are beginning to pop up and run riot in our streets." He turned to Orga. "I want this situation dealt with. We didn't wrestle our teritory away from the Yakuza to have it slip into the hands of no class, hoodlum scum."

"I'll get right on that," Orga answered. "I'll make these wannabe gangsters wish they were never born."

"See that you do. Things cannot continue like this. I'm trying to run a business here, this isn't some kind of charity."

Azrael turned his attention to Clotho. "And what about you? No sales at all this month? What's wrong," the blond mocked, a sneer forming on his thin lips. "Are your studies getting in the way of your job? You need to get your priorities straight. I didn't enroll you in that school for your education."

"I can't help it if the kids at school don't have any money," the redhead drawled, a defensive edge to his normally sly, high pitched voice. "They're poor. Their parents are poor. Why else would they send their kids to that shithole excuse for a school?

"Besides, getting stupid people hooked on drugs is Shani's area of expertise; and shaking them down for money is Orga's."

"Then what, prey tell, is yours? Do you have one? Do you even know?" Clotho was silent, breaking eye contact. "Well then, might I suggest you put down the silly games, get off your lazy backside, and go out and earn your keep? you're the only one here young enough to attend highschool without arousing questions. If you can't convert the other students into long-term customers, then you are useless to me. That puts your future very much in question." Scowling, Clotho looked away, saying nothing, instead allowing his eyes to burn holes in the floor below their feet.

Azrael turned toward Shani, missing the glare shot to him by Clotho.

"Shani..." he said, taking an exasperated sigh. "I don't even know where to begin. What troubles me more? Your total disregard for our shrinking profit margins, or your apparant complete and utter incompetence? I know, I think I'll start with the the lingering doubts of your loyalty.

"Free samples? Private deals? Secret meetings with our enemies? I know what you've been up to. Have no doubts about that. And when did I tell you to begin procuring prostitutes?"

"I saw an opportunity and I went for it. It's called initiative. You're getting your cut, so what's the problem?"

"The problem, is that these little side projects of yours are cutting into the work that you are supposed to be doing. You are going out on your own when you are supposed to be working for me. This initiative of yours is costing me money. That, is the problem.

"How much of the new product have you sold?"

"I've been doing handouts in the usual places. I've given out forty grams."

"You know, I get the feeling that if you stopped giving it away for free and began selling it like you're supposed to, we'd all be a lot richer."

"If this new shit is as good as you claim," Shani countered, "They'll be back for more. They won't be able to help themselves. It's called strategy. I'm just giving them a taste to whet their appetites."

"That's all well and good, but between your free samples and customers not paying up, I'm feeling a little out of pocket. Surely you can see where I'm coming from."

"I'll handle it. Just give me time."

"hm." Azrael flipped to another file and shifted his gaze to the other two. "Still, we have nowhere to go but up, except you," his eyes returned to linger on Shani once more. "you have everything to loose," the blonde added darkly, shooting the greenet a contemptuous glance that was gone before the greenet could question it. "Ah, I see the illustrious and illusive Ms haw has finally squared her debt," Azrael noted, changing the subject.

"She paid in full last night," Shani reported.

"Excellent. I'm glad we didn't have to resort to hostilities. She's an old friend of yours, isn't she?"

"I've known her for a few years," Shani admitted.

"Good. That should make things easier." At Shani's bemused expression, Azrael continued. "I hear she's currently screwing the keyholder to one of our investments downtown, a mister Tolle Koenig. He's been skipping out on his payments. I need someone down there who can keep an eye on the place, make sure it doesn't go up in flames, and make sure he has the appropriate insurence."

"You want me to force Miriallia to shake down her boyfriend for protection money," Shani summarized.

"I'm putting you in charge of the situation," Azrael answered. "How you go about it is up to you, so long as he pays up."

After a brief moment of thought, Shani nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Good. I do so hate when people leave business unattended, which reminds me. There is another young lady from your past that hasn't been paying her debts. What was her name again?" The blonde opened another file and began scrolling down the page. "Ah yes, a miss Lacus Clyne."

Shani responded with a blank stare. "The name doesn't ring a bell."

"It has been a long time, but she owes us a lot of money. Perhaps this will refresh your memory," he said, turning the laptop around to show the young men the contents of his display: A large photograph of a teenage girl. Pale skin, long waves of pink hair flowed down to her waist. Periwinkle eyes glistened with innocence. One of the young men gave a sharp whistle at the sight.

"She's cute," Clotho commented.

"She's gorgeous," Orga corrected.

"I want her," Clotho continued, the cruel lust in his eyes complimenting his perverse smirk. "She owes us money right? Why don't we just have her kidnapped?"

"Clotho has a point," Orga added. "With a face and body like that, she's gotta have potential. Be it porn or prostitution, she could make us a mint."

"Ohh, can I have her, can I have her please?" Clotho asked as if he were a child begging his parents for a puppy. "I'll take good care of her, I promise. I'll feed her, and pet her, and strip her, and screw her every day."

"Cute," Orga dryly remarked.

"If the girl doesn't pay up, I might just consider that," Azrael stated.

While the young men passed their vulger banter, the other two stared at the picture in silence. Shani had met this girl before. She was young, desperate, and in serious need of cash, but that was so long ago, he'd completely forgotten about her. "Lacus Clyne..." he hesitated. How could he put this? He'd written the pinkette off long ago. "Lacus has been living off the radar for well over a year now. She may not even be in the city anymore. I wouldn't know where to look, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Then you'd better prey for a lucky break. I want this girl found, and I want her brought before me. You have one month, understand?" The blond narrowed his blue eyes. "I suggest you get started."

Shani stared the blond man down. "Is that a threat?" The others visibly tensed. Nobody had openly challenged Azrael before.

Rather than getting angry, the blond approached, that unnatural smile once more gracing his features. He ruffled Stella's hair with his hand. The blonde smiled, eyes shut tight while the older man pet her as if she were a puppy. "Your girl has cleaned up quite nicely, hasn't she? Very pretty, very popular. She's really bloomed into a beautiful flower over the past few months. But I wonder, maybe she would have been better off where you found her. Perhaps she would make more money if I gave her back to her old pimp."

"You seem to think that bastard actually paid her for what he did."

"You misunderstand. When I said she would make more money, I meant for me."

Shani continued to stare blankly through the blond man. For a long time, he was silent, and when he did finally speak, his voice was a gravily monotone. "Her pimp, if you want to call him that, is a creep who kidnaps underage girls, gets them addicted to drugs, and uses them for illegal porn and snuff films. He barely keeps them alive and then when he has no more use for them, he leaves them to die in the gutter. Stella was only inches from death when I took her in. I'd see all of you dead before I'd see her back in the hands of that bastard."

"And yet, unless this Lacus can pay us back the money she owes, I see no alternative."

All through this exchange, Stella stared, her magenta ryes darting between Shani and Azrael.

"Don't take me for a fool," the blond continued, "I know exactly who this man is and I must say, I like his style. He gets results, which is more than I can say for the three of you. Listen now, You will bring me lacus Clyne, and I will sell her for the sum she owes me, and if she can't be found, I'm afraid Stella will have to take her place. Oh, and just to be clear, that is a threat."

Shani said nothing. His expression was blank, his eyes voids, windows to a black soul that didn't exist. Stella on the other hand, was a whirlwind of emotion. Though she remained silent, her eyes were wide and fearful. Her breathing was deep, and she inched closer to Shani, leaning into him as though he were her crutch, her support. The only thing standing between her and the blond man's wicked desires. Stella shied away from Azrael's cruel smirk, his evil eyes, his vile warning, his promise of horror and death. The blond was a trap door that led to a hell that the girl thought was well behind her, one that could never hurt her again.

"As I said," Azrael continued, packing up his laptop and getting ready to go. He turned his back on the youths and made for the door, leaving the way he'd come, "you have one month. Make it count. Leave as soon as you're ready. "

When he had left, the tension in the air seemed to lessen. Clotho and Orga each released pent up sighs and relaxed in their seats.

Shani on the other hand, felt no reprieve from the blond bastard's absence. He didn't move, didn't say a word. Azrael's days were numbered. He swore, he promised. Some day, and some day soon. One of these days, Shani would fucking kill him.

Slowly, he draped an arm around the panic ridden blonde, holding her close as she trembled against him. Through her hyperventilation, Shani distincly heard the girl utter two words.

"Don't... want..."

-XX-

**There it is. Maybe not what you were expecting? The next chapter will take a little longer, but I have started drafting it, so it hopefully won't be too big of a wait. **

**Is everyone fine with the genres for this story? Right now it's listed as friendship/angst. Those are fitting, but I was wondering if romance and/or hurt/comfort might be applicable too. I don't know. Do you think genre settings are fine as they are?**

**One more thing. Is anyone interested in a dark kira/lacus story? Lacus haters on the internet like to make her out to be some kind of cold hearted dictator. I'm thinking of writing a story where that actually is the case. I'm trying to put some ideas together. Anyone have any thouhts? Just thought I'd ask.**


	12. Lacus

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Thank you to everyoe who reviewed. Honestly, I was kind of hoping to hear some theories on where you guys might think I'm going with the latest plot twist, if you want to call it that. Anyway, here you go, the conclusion to the cliffhanger I randomly threw in a couple of chapters ago.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

-XX-

**Lacus**:

Lacus felt her muscles tense as she tried to still her erratic breaths and slow her pounding heart. She needed to clear her head and focus. She took slow, deep breaths and tried to think as rationally as she could.

She didn't know where she was or who was in the house with her, but she did know that they were coming closer, and they would find her.

Periwinkle eyes darted about the room, taking in her surroundings. There were two doors, but where did they lead? This was a bedroom, so one of them must have led to a hallway, but which one, and what about the other? Was it a closet? A bathroom? A back door to the outside? Would they even open, were they unlocked?

Should Lacus stay where she was in the bed, and cover her body with the blankets, or should she make a dash for escape?

But even if she made it outside, then what? She was naked and didn't have any money. She'd have no chance of making it through these shady streets and halfway across the city in her current state.

On the other hand, there was always the possibility that this was Miriallia's room. Maybe she was the one making those noises, but Lacus didn't think so. It sounded more like an intruder, as though somebody was searching for something. Perhaps somebody had broken in. Whatever the case, the pinkette couldn't stay where she was. Helpless and nude in bed, at the utter mercy of some stranger?

No, she wouldn't simply lie back and allow god knows what to unfold. She had to do something, anything. She had to at least try.

As fast as she could, the girl dropped the blanket and wriggled her way out of the suprisingly comfortable bed.

A tingle of embarrassment rushed through the pinkette as she dashed to the other side of the room, entirely nude, and reached for the handle of the first door.

The handle turned-

The door opened into a hallway-

Grey carpets-

Cream walls-

An unfamiliar male figure stood with his back to her-

Lacus shut the door as fast as she could. The man turned and she caught a glimpse of his face as the door shut home.

He had seen her!

Lacus didn't have long. He'd be down the hall and upon her in an instant.

Lacus turned and ran for the other door, preying that it would open for her. Moving as fast as she could, the room was like a blur.

She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings.

One misplaced step was all it took.

She stepped into the tangled blanket on the floor.

It wrapped around her leg like a tentacle.

Panicking, Lacus couldn't think strait. She just needed to get out. She lost her balance.

She tripped.

The girl fell forward, landing painfully on her face, her behind sticking up in the air.

The smell of the dirty carpet was suffocating.

Swallowing, Lacus let out a tiny groan as the door opened quietly behind her.

Frozen in fear, she couldn't move. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in a vulnerable position. Unable to think, speak, move or get up, Lacus was stuck... at least until she heard it.

A sharp, perverted whistle of vulgar appreciation.

Tilting her head to look up at the man behind her, her eyes took in his appearance. Purple eyes roamed her body unapologetically. Tan skin. Blonde hair, slicked back. A smirk playing slyly upon his lips. The man was dressed in black jeans and a dark red shirt under a black leather jacket.

Their eyes made contact and Lacus felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and not just because she had her face squashed into the floor with her rear end sticking up, as though presenting to the unknown man.

She tried to rid that thought from her mind before it engulfed her. The girl had to get out of this humiliating position and cover her shamefully exposed body, if she didn't die of embarrassment first.

As much as she wanted to just lie there and wait for the stranger to leave, she knew that she couldn't, and she suspected that he wouldn't.

"Don't get up," the man joked as she moved to stand, "I'm enjoying the view."

Lacus wanted to retort, to answer back with something smart and witty, but nothing would come, and even if it did, the girl didn't trust her voice to deliver the message for her.

The pinkette swiftly pulled her leg free of the blanket on the floor and wrapped it around her body, hiding herself from the intruder, or was Lacus the intruder?

As if taking the hint from her actions, the blond man removed his eyes from the girl's body, instead using them to look about the room. "Man," he said, scratching the back of his neck, "I forgot what a shithole Miriallia lives in."

Lacus felt her eyes narrow. Who was this person? Who did he think he was, and what gave him the right to insult Miriallia's home like that?

At that moment, those piercing eyes snapped back to her. "Where is she, do you know?" Lacus shook her head. "I'll give you a few minutes. You can come out when you're dressed. Lacus felt her blush deepen.

"Um... actually, I don't really have any clothes to wear."

the blond man's smirk returned. "What the hell did you get up to last night?" Lacus broke eye contact. "You know what? Don't worry about it. you can tell me later. There's a closet behind you. Just borrow some of Mir's clothes for now, she won't mind. I'll be in the living room. Come and find me when you're ready, and we can talk about what you're doing sleeping naked in my girlfriend's bed, in the middle of the day no less."

Lacus' eyes widened. Girlfriend? Was Miriallia going out with this man? The pinkette was under the impression that Mir was with Tolle, but then, if the blond were lying, how would he have gotten into the brunette's apartment?

As the man turned to leave, Lacus' voice acted without her consent. "Wait!"

The man stopped and turned his head to look back at her. If this man were telling the truth, the pinkette could see what may have drawn Miriallia to him in the first place. From this angle, he was certainly atractive. Physically, at least. Lacus hesitated. She had so many questions, but the most pressing one had to be first. "Who... who are you?"

The grin returned. "Call me Dearka."

-XX-

**Okay, don't be mad. Maybe not what some of you were expecting. Anticlimactic? Fake clffhanger? Maybe, maybe not? Who knows? It probably depeds on where I take it next. Let me know what you think.**

**One more thing, At some point, I want to take some of my fanfics and rewrite them as original stories with all original characters. The result will probably be a similar story, with slightly different characters and a few changes to the plot. I'll probably do it with this story and angel of decadence. Anyway, I was thinking of setting this story in a city based on Miami, but I've been thinking recetntly, and I might base it on Detroit instead. Just looking for input. Based on what you've read so far and whatever comes up in future chapters, I was wondering what you guys thought? What city do you think would be a fitting setting for this type of story? Keep in mind, I'd prefer it to be in America, and Angel of Decadence is going to be based in LA, so pick somewhere else. Also, Miami is the setting for the origin of one of my antagonists, so this one could be set somewhere else to avoid reusing te same city twice. Any thoughts?**

**Next chapter is pretty much done, so it should be up soon. **


	13. Chapter 13

Lacus:

Lacus could only stare speechless, eyes wide as she watched the blond young man leave and close the door behind him.

Dearka. Was he really Mir's boyfriend? If so, did that mean the brunette was cheating on him? Why would she do that? She barely knew any of them, but surely this Dearka was more of a catch than Tolle.

He was better looking for a start. It was only a superficial judgement, but still. Dearka also seemed like he'd probably be more fun, more like Miriallia herself. Plus, his reaction at seeing the pinkette went better than expected. Sure, he may not have looked away, but at least he hadn't tried anything. Especially considering the position in which he'd found her. That was something the pinkette couldn't say about most guys she'd met lately.

On the other hand, she and Tolle may have simply gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe her opinion of the man would be different if he ran a more professional and legitimate club, say, one without all the perverts and strippers. And of course, maybe if he hadn't hit her. Sure, maybe her actions did deserve consequences, and running a business must be stressful, which Lacus' bail surely didn't help, but that hardly excused the way Tolle had spoken and acted.

If Miriallia hadn't been there to calm him down, Lacus didn't know what might have happened.

The pinkette shuddered at the thought, before pushing it from her mind. The honest truth was, Lacus didn't know any of these people, not really. To pretend she did, or make judgements under the guise of familiarity was foolish to say the least.

The girl turned around and opened the other door. As Dearka had said, the door turned out to be a closet.

Lacus browsed the inventory within and was more surprised than impressed. There was a wide variety of shapes and colours from which she could choose, but nothing that the pinkette particularly wanted to wear, or that she thought would suit. In fact, most of the garments were more akin to costumes than clothes.

"Beggars can't be choosers," the girl sighed, searching for something, anything that was even remotely suitable. Eventually, she settled on the only sensible choice... well, the most sensible anyway. Miriallia's wardrobe wasn't exactly conservative. Perhaps it was fitting, considering what the brunette did for a living... whatever that might be.

Lacus felt more than a little awkward at borrowing the brunette's clothes, but that was nothing when the next thought crossed her mind. She still had no idea where Mir had hidden her underwear.

What should she do? She was taking the other girl's clothing. That was enough of an intrusion without stealing her undergarments too. That would be too much, even without the question of whether they would fit her. Were they similar enough in size that... no. Lacus couldn't borrow the other girl's underwear, she wouldn't even entertain the thought. But she couldn't wear her clothes without it, could she? Did she... have a choice?

The thought sickened her. It was completely wrong, not to mention unhygienic. Still, there wasn't much she could really do about that now. There weren't many things happening in her life recently that didn't turn her stomach a little.

She was taking a huge liberty, but what else could she do? Miriallia and Tolle were giving her a chance. If this worked out, if this job stuck, she'd pay the brunette back. She'd replace these soiled clothes. It was the least she could do.

Lacus dressed in her chosen items and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. She wore a white, cropped halter top and light blue skinny, low cut jeans with brown, thigh high boots. She covered her back and shoulders in a purple zip hoodie.

The clothes were a good fit, and the look did somewhat suit her, but Lacus wasn't entirely comfortable with the way it showed off her midriff. The top exposed her navel while the jeans rode so low on her hips that they were practically obscene. If she were wearing underwear, it would probably be on full display.

The pinkette zipped up the long, purple hoodie to cover herself before she stepped away from the mirror.

Lacus turned back and shut the closet door before looking about the room once more.

The bedroom was actually quite bare and minimalist, as though the brunette didn't actually spend a lot of time in here. Aside from the closet and vanity, there was a tall chest of drawers. On either side of the single bed sat a small end table. One was a regular table, and was adorned with a lamp and a clock. The other table seemed to open at the top, serving as a handy storage compartment. Lacus would never find out what was hidden inside however, because the lid, as it turned out, was locked.

On top of the chest-like table was a note and an outdated, but still functional mobile phone, her phone; and a sheet of white paper, upon which was neatly scrawled a note in slanted, elegant, joined up writing. Lacus pocketed her basic phone and picked up the note as she began to read.

_Lacus,_

_Sorry, I didn't mean to leave you behind, but you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you. If I don't make it back by morning, feel free to borrow some of my clothes and meet me back at the club._

_Call me ;p_

Lacus smiled at the emoticon Mir had used to sign off. She'd never seen somebody use one in a handwritten note before.

A couple of lines down the page was a series of numbers. A phone number? Lacus entered the number into her phone and pressed the green send key. The girl waited until her call was answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, this is Mir."

Lacus hesitated. What should she say? "Um... I got your note."

"Lacus? I was waiting for you to call. What's wrong, sleepy head? You just get up?" Was Miriallia making fun of her? "Hey, I'm sorry about bailing on you last night, especially after you made me promise not to leave you behind and everything."

"Don't worry about it."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about it from your point of view. It won't cause trouble, will it, you not getting home last night?"

Lacus' eyes widened. She hadn't even thought of that. Her friends, what could she say? What would they say? What would they think, especially—

That didn't matter now. Lacus would deal with that problem when and if it arose. "...it should be okay."

"Good. Hey listen, I've been talking to Tolle about giving you another shot. You're free tonight, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Good. Can you come down now?"

"Sure."

"Can you make your own way? I'm kinda busy, but I could swing by and pick you up."

"I'm not sure. There's someone here. I could maybe get a ride with them." The line fell silent.

"You've got somebody there with you? What, are you squatting now?"

"No! It's nothing like that. He was already here when I woke up."

"Who is he? Do you know?"

"He introduced himself as Dearka."

"... Shit."

"What's wrong?" Was Miriallia mad that Lacus knew about her other other half?

"I don't have time for this right now. Dearka... what the hell is he even doing there?"

"I think he's looking for you. He said he's your boyfriend. Is that true?"

"He wishes," Miriallia joked.

"What's going on?"

"I wish I could tell you... I'd rather avoid him if I can help it, but... okay, see if you can get him to give you a ride and I'll see you both when you get here. Just... Dearka's full of shit, so don't believe everything he tells you."

"Is he really your boyfriend?"

"No. Well, kind of. Look, I dumped him months ago."

"Does he know that?"

"I thought he did."

"Sounds like he didn't quite get the message."

"Yeah, I guess not. I'll deal with it when the two of you get here. See you then."

"Yeah, see you."

"Let me know if that blond lump gives you any trouble, okay,"

"Okay, I'll see you later."

"See ya."

As the call ended, Lacus returned her phone to her pocket and left the room, walking slowly toward what she dearly hoped wouldn't be an awkward conversation with Miriallia's apparently 'not' boyfriend.


	14. Chapter 14: Lacus

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part one: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Sorry again for taking so long to get this up. I haven't had much time lately. Also, I've been looking over the way I've been writing, since I plan to start doing more original stories. At my current rate, it looks as though it'll take twenty years to finish anything, and since I want to try and semi-self publish at ome point, that's not really a feasible time frame. So, I'm going to have to cut down on the number of stories I write. For those of you who are subscribed to me, I was wondering if you could let me know which stories you are most interested in reading in the near future.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p><strong>Lacus:<strong>

Walking slowly, closing the door behind her, Lacus ventured down the hallway and toward what she assumed would be the living room she fell asleep in last night.

Although it was in a dangerous looking area in one of the seedier parts of town, and in a rather dodgy, unscrupulous high-rise tower block, this apartment was actually quite large, all things considered. There was a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Lacus' apartment was minuscule, by comparison. She had a bathroom, but other than that, there was only a very small living area that served as both lounge and bedroom, with a small kitchenette on one side. It was just a living room with a bed in it. It was closer to a motel than an apartment.

Lacus wondered how much this place cost Miriallia. Perhaps the pinkette could move into someplace like this.

Lacus sighed and shook her head. What a downgrade that would be. Could she really live in a place like this? She'd be too scared to come home at night, or leave in the morning, or vice versa. Besides, she already owed so much rent on her own place. Her landlord would likely not let that go, would he? Plus, she owed money to her friends and neighbours. She hated being a burden, but what could she do? How could the pinkette consider paying what money she did have for advance rent in a new place when she still owed so much in her old one? They would never let her. They would think she was trying to run out on them. Lacus couldn't do that. Besides, there may not have even been any rooms going in this building.

It was a terrible situation to be in. Lacus couldn't afford to stay where she was, but she couldn't afford to move. She was trapped. Imprisoned by life itself. If this new job didn't work out, the pinkette didn't know for how much longer she could go on.

Dearka smiled as he saw her coming toward the living room. "Here," he said, handing her a mug containing a dark liquid that smelled of coffee. "I wasn't sure how you take it, so don't go blaming me."

Lacus took a whiff from the mug and blanched, remembering the last time somebody had offered her a drink. "Actually, I don't drink coffee."

Dearka quirked an eyebrow as if this were the strangest remark anybody had ever said. "How come?"

"I just... I don't really know. I never started the ritual. I don't like the taste. I'm not really fond of the smell, either."

"Okay, whatever. So can you tell me what's going on? I mean I haven't known Miriallia to pick up strays, but here you are. Actually, could you tell me your name first?"

"It's Lacus. Miriallia was going to give me a ride home last night, but... I guess I must have fallen asleep and she left without me."

"You're not making much sense. Mir went where, to your place but left you here?"

Lacus shook her head and handed the blond the note Mir had left for her. "Miriallia had something to do last night. She was going to drop me home on the way."

"But you fell asleep and she left you here alone."

"You don't believe me."

"It's not exactly a credible story, but this note seems to back it up. It's signed by Mir, that looks like her number, and it's definitely in her handwriting. plus, who else would end a note with a wink?"

"I suppose you're right." Dearka had a point. Lacus had never seen anybody finish off a handwritten note like that before. An email, sure, but not a pen and paper physical note.

"So, you don't know where she is?"

Lacus shook her head.

"Strange that she'd leave you here alone. It doesn't look like she's been home all night. I wonder if something's happened to her."

Lacus shook her head once more. "I called that number just a moment ago and she seemed fine."

"You've spoken to her?" Dearka made to grab her by the shoulders, but the pinkette stepped backwards out of his reach. "Where is she, do you know?" the blond's tone suddenly turned serious.

Lacus looked away.

"Come on," Dearka pushed. "You know, don't you. Tell me!"

Lacus' eyes hardened. "You show up here, uninvited, let yourself in, and demand to know where Miriallia is? You're behaving like some kind of stalker. Why should I trust you? What business is it of yours anyway?"

"Because, she's my—"

"You're girlfriend? That's not what she told me." Lacus breathed deeply. She wasn't normally this confrontational, but Dearka had just tapped into something that was evidently kept deep below the surface. Her eyes held a determination within their blue depth. Her voice was high, but it was strong, commanding, much more so than it had been lately. It wasn't loyalty so much that pushed her on, as it was adrenaline.

Dearka's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Come on, I don't have time for this shit. Can't you just trust me on this?"

Lacus slowly edged away from the blond, keeping her eyes on him. "Miriallia told me that you two broke up months ago. You came back here now? You broke in, ruffled the place up…" the girl looked around. The living room had appeared so empty last night, but now, the place was a mess. "How long have you been here?"

Dearka cracked a smile. "Hey, I work fast."

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Not really."

Lacus raised an eyebrow.

"Just… anything incriminating."

"And you expect me to trust you?"

"Yeah, okay. I know how that sounds, but I really am trying to help. Can't you just give me a chance?"

Lacus sighed and nodded. "Sell me."

"You can't be serious."

"I am. Give me one reason why I should trust you. Give me one reason why I should tell you where Miriallia is."

"I just… I need to see her, to talk to her. It's important."

Lacus narrowed her eyes. On one hand, this was none of her business, but on the other, the girl was getting a bad vibe from this young man. Was he dangerous? Did he mean Mir harm? Could he be trusted?

"You can do better than that, can't you?"

"How well do you know her? Are you like best friends or something?"

"Actually, we just met last night."

"And she brought you home?"

Lacus willed herself not to blush. A thought rushed to her. Had Lacus been introduced to a different Miriallia than the one that this young man thought he knew? "That doesn't matter now. What's so important that you need to see Miriallia? Don't tell me you want to get back together. Sorry, but I don't think she's interested."

"That's not why I'm here." That perked the girl's interest, but should she be intrigued, or concerned? Miriallia had been good to her, as brief as their friendship had been so far. Lacus didn't want anything bad to happen to the brunette. "Okay, I'll tell you, but keep this between us." After a short internal deliberation, Lacus agreed. She had to know what was going on. "It's like I said. I need to talk to her, to warn her."

"About what?"

"Miriallia… she's in with a bad crowd."

"How bad?"

"Criminals. Extortionists, pimps, drug dealers, you name it. They all hang around that cesspool den of scum she used to frequent. Word on the street is, she's gone back."

"You mean Tolle's club?"

"Tolle Koenig. So you know it?"

"That's where I met Miriallia."

"It's true then. This is bad, and it's not going to reflect well on her."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's under suspicion. She's caught the attention of those she doesn't want looking at her. They're watching her."

Lacus' throat went dry. She tried to swallow.

"Who, the criminals?"

Dearka shook his head. "The police. That's why I'm looking for anything that could incriminate Mir. I have to find it first, make sure there's nothing here to find, because trust me, they'll be coming, and soon."

"Do you really think Miriallia's involved in anything illegal?"

"I don't know. I doubt it, but…"

"Then you should trust her. Miriallia's done nothing wrong, so don't interfere. What if the police find out what you're trying to do? It might look suspicious. I'm sure you mean well, but you could be unintentionally incriminating her."

The blond's eyes widened.

"Just let the police carry out their investigation. They'll come in, search the place, and when they don't find what they're looking for, they'll move on."

"That's cute," Dearka smirked, "but unfortunately, that's not the way things work. The kinds of people in charge of this investigation are some of the dirtiest cops you'll find within the borders of this city. Trust me, they'll do whatever it takes to catch the guys they're after. If they have to ruin a few lives in the process, so be it.

"If you don't believe me then fine, but at least tell her what I said. She has to be warned. She needs to know what's up, so she can at least watch after her own back. Promise me that you'll pass on the message. This heads up, it's the least I can do. Plus, what's the worst that can happen? Better to be safe than sorry, right?"

Lacus nodded. "Yeah, okay… but you should be the one to tell her."

"You mean…."

"I'll take you to her."

"Where is she?"

"At the club."

"She's there now? Is she expecting you?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get going."

"So you'll take me with you?"

"Do I have a choice? I'm not exactly in good standing with the security in that place. I have a feeling that tagging along with you is the only way I'll get in."


	15. Chapter 15

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part One: Showtime Virgin**

**Author's Notes: **Hey, sorry it's been so long. Hope everyone had a good Christmas and new year. Mine was busy since I was working right through. I did get Christmas Day off, but since I was cooking the Christmas dinner, it wasn't really a day off. I had some time off this week though. I just marathoned Hellsing Ultimate, and that got me inspired to keep writing my vampire story. I've had the first chapter up on worthyofpublishing for a whole, but I've just recently put it up on my website, so go check it out maybe? Be warened though, it does start off with the shock factor. It might disturb some people, who knows? Anyway, I'll try and upload a censored version to fictionpress at some point. I'm working on the second chapter, but who knows when I'll be done with it.

I was writing a future chapter of this story, and I brought Cagalli in swearing too much. I mean, she was always going to have a mouth on her in this story, but I wasn't going to introduce her that way. I think writing Wallace Blackfire has got me into a swearing mood. He's bleeding into my other characters. Oh well.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p><strong>Lacus<strong>

The pink haired girl sat with her head in her hand, her elbow resting against the car door. Her eyes stared vacantly out the window at the passing scenery. An endless ocean of steel. Grey concrete as far as she could see. Buildings rocketed from the ground, reaching to the abysmal misty skies, linking the heavens to the earth.

Lacus shifted her gaze to the person in the driver's seat beside her. It was a scene that seemed so familiar. Only last night, she had been a passenger as Miriallia had taken her away from that den of depravity they call a club. Now, here she was again, as Dearka took her back.

She must have been so stupid to go back there, but how could she help it? What choice did she have? It was the only job lead she'd had since moving here. Now that was a sad thought.

"You're pretty quiet, you know that?"

"I've… I just have a lot on my mind."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Lacus turned her attention back to the window. "I don't even know you. I'm not going to tell you about my problems."

"Fair enough," Dearka dismissed with a shrug. "So how do you know Miriallia then?"

"We met at the club last night."

"And what's a girl like you going to strip clubs for?" the blond joked. "Don't tell me you're into strippers. That place doesn't have a ladies night, so that must mean…."

Lacus narrowed her eyes. Dearka didn't know anything about her. How could he sit there and casually make assumptions about her? "I… I was there as a dancer."

"You? Huh, so you don't just look at the strippers, you actually are one."

The girl blushed. "Don't call me that. I'm not, I just… I desperately needed a job, so…."

"Did you think of looking for something that doesn't involve dancing naked for money?"

"It's not like I haven't tried," Lacus hissed, beginning to lose her cool with the aggravating young man. She was starting to see why Miriallia had dumped him.

"Still… it's not as though you don't have the body for it."

Lacus couldn't help the blush from returning. She didn't like being reminded of the way she and Dearka had become acquainted. Lacus wasn't comfortable with the prospect of people seeing her naked. Very few had actually done so in the past, not counting that little wardrobe malfunction the night before. The pinkette didn't go around disrobing in public. She wasn't somebody that took such a thing lightly, and she didn't like the implication that she did, never mind the suggestion that she might do so for personal gain.

Lacus had never once been promiscuous or licentious in her entire life, so why did everyone seem to assume that she was some kind of 'easy' harlot lately?

"Come on, don't sulk. I was only teasing."

"I'm not sulking, I just… I'm sick of people leering at me like I'm some kind of pornstar."

"Then stop projecting the image."

Lacus looked down at her attire in distaste. "It's not as though I always dress like this. These clothes are a little revealing, sure, but between this and the maid outfit, I think I made the right call."

"Mir has a maid outfit?"

"Don't ask." To be honest, that wasn't even the most embarrassing thing in there. Maybe Mir was the pornstar.

"She never wore it for me," Dearka grumbled. Was he disappointed? Jealous? "But I'm not talking about your clothes. Here's my advice. Take it or leave it. You want to act like little miss prim and proper? Fine. Stop hanging around strip clubs."

"I have to work somewhere!" Lacus defensively plead, "And Tolle is the only one hiring. At least, I hope he is."

"The only one?"

"No, I hope he's hiring… I mean I hope he hires me. Last night was my chance to impress him, and I blew it. Mir's been trying to convince him to give me another shot, but if I screw up again… why does it always have to turn out like this? I mean…" The girl released a sigh. Dearka didn't want to know about her troubles. "Never mind. It doesn't matter." She looked out the window once more and her clouded, periwinkle eyes suddenly cleared like a summer sky as the sights before her became instantly familiar. "We're here," she informed her driver.

"Yeah, let me just find somewhere to park the car."

It was a few minutes until the pair made their way to the club's entrance, but it was all too soon for Lacus. She could literally feel her stomach contort inside her as her nerves and anxieties rose to the surface. It was just like last time, but worse. Lacus didn't particularly enjoy the prospect of someone like Tolle judging her, assessing her suitability, deciding what he should do with her, how degrading a position he should put her in.

It was funny, in a humourless kind of way. At school, Lacus had never been introverted. She'd never been nervous or timid. She'd been popular. She'd been a performer. She'd always taken every opportunity to show her talents. She'd always tried to lend a hand too, to help out those in need, to speak up for those that lacked a voice of their own.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen, how things had changed… and how things had changed!

"Athrun?" What was he doing out here? Was he some kind of bouncer? Last night he'd been inside the club, working with the dancers, working behind the stage, working behind the scenes. Lacus had assumed him to be a manager of some kind.

"Woah, Athrun," Dearka commented. "You never used to be in the security department. What happened?" Lacus looked to the blond. These two knew each other? She wondered how.

"Seiran happened," Athrun replied. "You know what a daddy's boy he is. He made a complaint, and now I've been transferred to security."

"A complaint, huh? Want me to punch him in the face for you?"

"What do you think got me transferred?"

"You didn't! Ha, nice one."

"He had it coming."

"When hasn't he? What did he do this time?"

"He was harassing one of the dancers. Had her cornered and alone in a hallway before I showed up."

"Shit… he's security, right? Isn't he supposed to be there to you know, prevent that kind of thing?"

"Since when has Yuna ever actually done his job?"

"Got that right. Please tell me he got fired for this one."

"He did, actually. We're not the only ones fed up with his shit."

"Really?" Dearka grinned, "I can't wait to rub his nose in this one. He always acts so superior, so entitled. You'd think he was some kind of prince or something."

"Be careful. You know who his father is. I was transferred to the worst job in the club just for reporting him."

"Still, it's a good thing you were there. Who knows what might have happened."

"Actually," Athrun smirked, "as it turns out, I wasn't really needed. The dancer could take care of herself, right Lacus?"

The blond looked to her with wide eyes. "You?!"

"Um, yeah."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, really."

"She just scratched his face off."

"Nothing, huh?" Dearka jibed. "You know he considers that thing a work of art, right? Well, I guess he's entitled to, given how much of the family funds he's spent on it."

"Chances are, he's gonna be spending a little more."

"Good thing he has insurance."

"How much do you want to bet his insurance premiums are going to go up? Especially if Lacus sticks around."

Dearka chuckled. "Wish I could have been there to see it. Oh well. Hey," he turned to Lacus, "You go in and find Mir. I have something private to talk to Athrun about."

Lacus looked between the two young men. Athrun nodded her in, and she complied. She couldn't help but wonder how those two knew each other. She couldn't help but wonder what they wanted to talk about. They clearly didn't want the pinkette listening in on them. Why else would they send her inside?

Now, thinking more clearly on the task before her, Lacus couldn't help but wonder how she was supposed to find Miriallia in a place like this on her own.

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long. I'm changing the way I write things, by reducing the number of stories I'm writing. I think I may have already said this, but if you have any preferences of which stories you want continued in the near future, let me know. I also finally got around to playing FFXIII. I've been putting it off, but I saw it cheap second hand, so I figured 'what the hell.' I may as well see how bad it is, right? Honestly, my impressions of it are mixed, and they're not particularly positive. I may attempt to write a review, if I manage to finish it, who knows?<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Feeling Filthy**

**Part one: Showtime Virgin**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Seed

* * *

><p><strong>Miriallia<strong>

Miriallia stood behind the bar, leaning over the wooden counter. God this was boring. Why did Tolle even bother to open the bar during the day? Who was going to come in for a drink during the afternoon? The only people likely to drop by were raging alcoholics.

Okay, so maybe the odd person might come in to talk over a drink, but those people were more inclined to go to one of the more traditional pubs around the city. Tolle's club was seen as more of a strip club: A place for adult entertainment, a workplace of the sex industry. Even if it weren't a totally fair assessment, it was the common assumption, and in some ways, it was true.

Some people tended to avoid places like this. There weren't many people who talked over business at a strip club, aside from TV gangsters of course, but those kinds of people didn't exist in the real world, or if they did, they didn't come in here, and Miriallia had never seen them.

The brunette had seen real gangsters, and they were… different. Less bang-pow; more sociopathy.

The girl checked her phone again. No messages. _Come on Lacus,_ she internally complained. _Where are you? _Miriallia's place wasn't that far away from the club, was it? Okay, maybe a ten minute drive… fifteen if you wanted to obey the speed limit. It had been over twenty since Lacus had called, and she still wasn't here yet. What was going on? Had Dearka agreed to give her a ride? Had they gotten lost? Were they alright? Was Lacus alright?

No, there was nothing to worry about. Nothing could have happened to the pinkette. Not with Dearka there. The guy was a prick, and he lived on the wrong side of the law, arresting all the people Mir normally associated with, but he was still a good guy. He wouldn't let anything happen to Lacus. They'd have to go through some seedy neighbourhoods to get here, but it was the middle of the day, and Dearka would protect the pinkette, Mir was sure of it.

She looked back to her phone. Maybe she should give Lacus a call, just to make sure nothing was wrong.

"Expecting a call?" Meer asked, walking over to the bar.

"No, but that's kinda the problem. Why?"

"It's nothing. You just looked anxious."

"No, I'm just waiting for someone. They're running a little late."

"Who?"

"Lacus. I've been trying to get her an interview with Tolle, but she's not here yet. If she doesn't show up soon…"

"Maybe she's not interested."

"No, she is. She was desperate for a job. I just hope nothing's happened to her, that's all."

"Lacus… is that a friend of yours?"

"She was here last night, remember? Pink hair, blue eyes, she was dancing on stage with me…"

"I thought that was me," Meer laughed.

Mir smirked. "Before that."

"Oh, you mean the virgin?"

Mir's eyes widened. Was that a new nickname for Lacus? Was it a running joke at the pinkette's expense, because of her inexperience and timidness? If so, it wasn't very funny. The girl herself even claimed that she was not a virgin, though she did act like one. "What makes you think she's a virgin?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't making assumptions or anything, it's just… isn't that her name? That's what the DJ was calling her."

"Oh, right."

"I think it fits though, on more than one level. I mean, last night was her first time on stage, but there's also the way she acts. Like a virgin, or a prude. She's like a lost little lamb."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Mir defended.

"I know. It's just unusual. It's… cute. Why's she need to talk to Tolle? Is he pissed about her running off last night?"

"He was, but I calmed him down. I want him to give her another chance, maybe let her do something a little less…"

"Demeaning?"

"Demanding."

"I don't think the stage is too demanding. I mean, she was pretty good before she freaked, and let's be honest, that wasn't all her fault."

Miriallia responded with a coy grin. "I know, if I hadn't made her go topless, she might have actually filled her time-slot, but if I hadn't pushed her in the first place, I don't think she would have gone on at all."

"That's a shame. She's definitely got the ability… not to mention the body. She probably just isn't comfortable with this kind of work. Maybe she just needs a confidence boost. Maybe I could help."

Meer's offer seemed genuine, but there was a glint in her eye that Mir didn't like. A look of… was it lust? Just what was she planning? Miriallia felt a wave of possession, of protectiveness fall over her. Lacus was hers. Mir had found her first after all. If anyone was going to help the pinkette take the plunge into their world, it was going to be her. "Listen, you seem nice and all, and I'd like us to be friends, so take my advice. Stay away."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard. Back off. Lacus is mine."

"You make it sound as though she's your pet. Okay, so she's _your _lamb. I can respect that. It must be nice, being desired by so many people."

"It is, trust me. It's just a shame that Lacus doesn't see it that way."

"Look, I don't want to take the virgin away from you or anything. I just want to share. She has so much unfulfilled potential, and it's adorable, but you do want her to blossom, don't you?"

"I can handle that on my own. She trusts me. I don't want someone like you blowing this."

"Someone like me? You don't have to be so greedy. I just want a little taste, but okay, I won't interfere. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"If you need an extra pair of hands to mould her… just consider me."

"What if it turns out she's not into girls?"

"Does it really matter? We'll all get something out of it in the long run. She gets to develop into a proper woman, you have your little girl all grown up, to do with as you wish, and I get to lay my hands on that body of hers. It's win-win. I just want to help. Is that so bad?"

"Okay… I'll consider it. If – and I mean if. If it turns out she needs a woman's touch, I'd prefer to do it myself, but if do I need help… you'll be the first person I call."

"That's all I ask."

Just then, the phone rang. Not the cell phone in Mir's hand, but the landline under the bar. It was an internal call. The brunette picked it up and answered. "This is the bar. Mir speaking… okay, thanks. I'll be right over." Hanging up the phone, Mir turned back to Meer. Hey, can you cover for me?"

"What's going on?"

"Doctor wants to see me."

Meer gave her a comforting grin. "Good luck."

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's check-up week, right? Something must be up if she's calling about your results so soon, especially if she wants to see you in person."

"Shut up, I haven't even been tested yet. Besides, she's got someone there who wants to see me, that's all."

"Maybe it's Lacus."

Mir's spirit picked up at that. "Hey, maybe. I wonder how she wound up in the doctor's office though… I hope nothing happened to her."

"Feeling worried?"

"No… I'd better get going."

"Okay, see you later."

Miriallia made her way down the halls and corridors that made up the club. This place had grown quite a lot from the failing nightclub it was when Tolle first got his hands on it. His father, being the unwise drunk that he was, had mismanaged it into the ground.

The brunette wondered what was going through his mind when he decided to leave his failing business to his son. Did he have faith in him, or was it a cruel joke, like passing on a large debt wrapped in the paper of a Christmas gift?

What would he think now? What would he think of what Tolle had turned it into? When he'd started, the club only consisted of what was now the main room, but since then, it had grown. Now they had a bar, a casino, and how could she forget the back rooms.

Of course, Tolle couldn't take all the credit. It had been Shani's financial backing that had made it all possible, but favours from the greenet didn't come free. He had invested a great deal of money into this venture. It was only a matter of time until he would come to claim what he was owed.

Miriallia shook her head. She had more important things to do than think about Shani and Tolle. She had other pressing issues to deal with. Personal ones, such as Lacus, and whatever the doctor wanted, and then there was—

"Mir!"

The brunette froze in place, eyes widened. That voice, so familiar. That tone, so arrogant, so smug, so infuriating. Her eyes narrowed as she turned around.

There he was, walking straight toward her. That blond hair, slick as usual. Those violet eyes. That tan skin.

She didn't need to worry about this problem, it was coming to her. The asshole was coming to her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to your boyfriend."

Miriallia smirked. "You're not my boyfriend, Dearka. We're not dating anymore, get it?"

"Yeah, your new office bitch gave me the message."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, the stripper you took home last night. Pink hair, blue eyes, white skin like a ghost…second best ass I've seen since high school."

"You're talking about Lacus."

"That's the one. I might never have found you without her, I owe her a lot."

"She has a lot to answer for then. Leading you to me, bringing you here, letting you into my house... You have no idea how long it took to get your stink out from the last time you were there."

"Ouch. But she didn't let me in. She was still in bed when I got there. It's funny though."

"What is?"

"Given the way she acts, I wouldn't expect someone like her to sleep naked."

Miriallia smirked. "Well, I may have had something to do with that…." Suddenly her smirk dropped. "Wait a minute, if Lacus didn't let you in…" Dearka reached into his pocket and fished out a familiar looking key… her key! "Wait, how did you… You gave your key back to me, I remember! I had to pry it from your sticky little fingers!"

Dearka looked back at her, his grin suddenly turning sheepish. "Well, I may have happened to uh… make a copy?"

"God you're a creep. What are you even doing here? I hope you didn't come to see me."

"I did actually. You got a minute?"

"No. I'm busy. You see, I work here, and for some people, when we're at work, we actually do our jobs. Maybe you should give it a try. If you'll excuse me." The brunette shoved Dearka away and headed back to where she was going."

"Yeah," the blond called out after her. "That's kind of why I'm here."

Miriallia froze once more, looking over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"I need to talk to you. It's important. As in, official police business important."

Miriallia's eyes widened. What was going on? Was she in trouble? Was Tolle in trouble? Were they somehow linked to… shit! Had they finally busted Shani? No, there was no way he'd betray her, but those other two, or the creep he worked for… they would have no such qualms with leading the police to her if it got them off their trail. For a moment, she was fearful.

Swallowing the lump before it formed in her throat, Miriallia steeled herself. Of all people, why had they sent Dearka? Was it because they had history? Were they planning to use that, or had the blond volunteered? Just what was this about?

"As I said," Miriallia stated in a cool, collected tone. "I'm busy. How long is this going to take?"

"Not long. We can talk about it later. Will you be home tonight?"

"I don't know, I guess so."

"Okay, I'll meet you there, alone."

"It's gonna be a late night. Don't wait up on my account."

"Oh, I don't mind waiting. Just give me a time."

"Like I said. Don't wai—"

"Like I said, just give me a time."

Miriallia sighed. Dejected, voice low, she begrudgingly complied. "I'll be home at three."

"Okay, see you then. Just remember. What I want to say is private, so don't go bringing any stray cats home with you."

"Hey it's not my fault if people follow me home. I'm a very attractive, desirable woman."

"Don't I know it… okay, guess I'll see you tonight."

Miriallia turned away, leaving the blond, but before she could take a single step, she felt a hand grab her by the wrist.

Scowling, she wrenched her arm free, turning back around. "What?!" she demanded.

Dearka merely looked at her, those violet eyes, so full of playful banter before, now joyless. Was he sad, hurt, concerned… guilty?

"What is it?" she asked in a somewhat softer tone. The great blond prick may have been a royal pain in her ass, and she may have dumped him ages ago, but it still pained her to see him like this. Deep down, she did still care for the lump.

"Just… be careful, okay." Why was he being like this? Miriallia was starting to panic. What was going on? What did he know? "We know what you get up to. You're hanging out with the wrong kinds of people… people from the wrong side of the tracks."

"Yeah? Have you forgotten which side of town I live on? From where we're standing, you guys are on the wrong side of the tracks… the wrong side of the law," she reiterated.

"Okay, fine, don't trust us then. That's probably wise. I get it, but you know you can't trust them either. They're scum, Mir. You can act tough all you want, but you're not one of them. I know you're not. I know you. If you can't stay away from this club, then at least try to stay away from the pimps and the gangsters who are always hanging around.

"These people have had free run of the streets, but there's a change in the wind. We're closing in on them. Wild beasts don't react well in cages. If it gives them even a second to get away, they won't hesitate to throw you in our path to save themselves.

"Maybe you should lay low, stay out of sight for a while… and another thing. Stay away from Andras."

Miriallia's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I knew it. Look, Shani is an old friend. He helped me out back in the day so I owed him a few favours. I've paid him all he's owed, just last night in fact. There's nothing going on."

"I know. I believe you, but that doesn't mean the others will. I just… I don't want a piece of shit like that giving you a bad reputation… I just hope it isn't already too late.

"Remember what I said, okay? Just keep it in mind. Just… be careful."

Miriallia swallowed, hard. Her mouth… it was so dry. She needed a drink, and she'd just left the bar. "Yeah, okay."

"Look, I know you probably don't trust cops, and that's fine, I'm not asking you to. Just, don't trust the gangsters either." Miriallia nodded. "One more thing. I was just wondering, right here, right now, with just the two of us, do you… shit, don't worry about it."

Why was he acting like this? It was so unlike him, it was scary. "What is it? Just ask."

"Do you trust me?"

Mir's eyes widened. Why was he so different? Where was the arrogant prick she knew when they were dating? Was this his true self? Was that all an act? Had he changed?

Had Mir done this to him, or was he just so worried about her? She wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to punch him in the face, to do anything, anything to wipe that sad look from his eyes.

"I… yeah, I do."

* * *

><p><strong>Why is it that Lacus is the protagonist, yet Miriallia gets all the action? Hey, I guess this is turning out great for Miriallia fans. (Spread the word, hint hint.) Anyway, I'm almost ready to move the plot a little. (Yay!)<strong>


End file.
